


Stuck On a Puzzle

by RosieWazlib



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Next Generation, Multi, Next Generation, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieWazlib/pseuds/RosieWazlib
Summary: They were not friends and they never would be. There was no point arguing with herself on that point. Friendship, however, was a frivolous thing when it came to life and death. Whatever distaste they had for each other, she decided, mattered little in the face of the war that seemed to be rushing to meet them.





	1. Stuck On a Puzzle

_**Stuck On a Puzzle**  
__I have been searching from_  
_The bottom to the top for such a sight_  
_As the one I caught when I saw your_  
_Fingers dimming the light_  
_Like you're used to being told that you're trouble_  
_And I spent all night stuck on a puzzle_

* * *

_He could see her stirring feebly, her hunched figure only a silhouette to him in the dim moon light, the stench of blood choking him and the pain of his torn flesh rippling through his broken body._

_Unable to stand and with one hand clutched over his wound in a wishful attempt to quell the bleeding, he dug his elbow into the soft earth to edge himself forwards, swallowing the grunts of pain that hit his lips as he struggled towards her. The wet grass beneath him soaked through his robes, with blood or water he was unsure._

_She was mere feet from him but he could not see her face, her head against the earth, her body still shuddering even now. He breathed her name but she gave no sign of hearing._

_If he could only reach her before she fell still; if only he had not been such a fool and had stopped it when the chance was still there; if he only had his wand, and had not lost it in the fray; if only someone would come for them, find them in the ruin, promise him she would be safe just as he had once promised, and then he could allow himself to die._

* * *

He arrived with a twirl of his cloak, staggering from the apparation, straightening hurriedly and storming down the empty corridor without pause. He was late again, and he knew it incensed his master, but what alternative was there when he had been preoccupied with work so crucial to their cause?

By the time he reached the manor's top storey he was panting for breath, and his brisk pace slowed ever so slightly as he started down the long corridor to his master's chambers.

'You're late, Goyle.'

Ire quickly surmounted his anxiety at the sound of the drawling voice, and he swivelled to face its owner. There, concealed in the shadows at the mouth of an adjoining corridor, was the thin, pointed, loathsome face, more lined now than he remembered.

'I had business to attend to,' he snarled back and to his dismay he saw a smile creep across the face of the tall man before him. 'And what are you doing dawdling out here when our master has requested our presence?'

'My tardiness is due to work I was carrying out at the request of our master, Goyle,' the man replied. 'I doubt you can say the same for yourself.'

'For your information I had my own work to do for our master,' he bit back. 'I have a message for him.'

'Then I suggest you quicken your pace,' the smirking lips told him. 'If the news you carry is as important as you seem to believe then I am sure our master would view your time-wasting as a great discourtesy.'

His anger roared in his ears, choking his throat and clogging his lips of any retort; he stood in seething silence as the man, smiling his loathsome smile, slithered out of the shadows and started down the corridor towards their master's chambers, striding with that regal air he had detested as long as he could recall. Goyle hurried after him, his eyes fixed on the back of the man's head of thinning silver hair, gleaming under the torchlight.

The two old allies rounded the corridor's turn, Goyle struggling to match his companion's brisk strides, before they reached the heavy oak doors that sent a pang of apprehension coursing through him. He cleared his throat, straightening himself up to his fullest height, knowing that the man beside him did not share in this anxiety as he raised a pale hand to rap on polished oak.

No noise from within the chambers reached them as they waited before the door was wrenched open before them and they were met by the familiar sallow face who gazed up at them coolly before barking over his shoulder, 'Malfoy and Goyle have arrived, my Lord.'

'Ah, at last,' came the deep, cool voice from within the depths of the dark room. 'Step aside, Nott. Come in, my friends. Pour yourself a drink.'

Nott obeyed the order and Malfoy strode forward with all the power of a lord, leaving Goyle to hurry in after him, Nott locking the door after them with a hoarse incantation.

The room was occupied by the usual faces, each of them aligned in their allocated seats around the black mahogany table nursing goblets of mead and, as always, he was swamped by the unwelcome memory of his Hogwarts days by the familiar watchfulness of his ex-school mates eyes. He took his seat at the end of the table, farthest of the lot of them from his master, and reached for the decanter in the centre of the table, pouring himself a generous goblet of mead, drinking deeply.

'My Lord,' came Malfoy's drawling voice, as he himself took his seat beside their master, 'you must excuse our lateness. Goyle fancied himself some small talk on the way to join you.'

The rage surfaced within him and he opened his mouth to protest before he heard his master give a low chuckle that soon spread around the table.

'Now, Malfoy, lateness is of no matter when Goyle has taken such a risk for me as he did tonight,' their master told him calmly. 'What news do you bring, Goyle?'

Under his master's unwavering gaze Goyle felt a pang of apprehension in his chest but he forced himself to meet his master's gaze and, in a voice ringing with firmness that surprised himself, he hissed, 'The Aurors arrived before we could even enter the grounds, my Lord.'

The silence amongst them was thick enough to cut and while Goyle could feel his fellows' eyes watching him and knew Malfoy's scowl was fixed upon him, he did not break his master's gaze, and waited for the man to give a slow now and say in his ever-calm voice, 'Thank you for this information, Goyle.'

'The protective charms around the school are far greater than we anticipated, my Lord,' insisted Goyle, struggling to keep the urgency from his voice. 'There was nothing we could have done-'

The words died on his tongue as his master raised a pale hand, signalling for silence. 'I understand, Goyle. It is of no matter.'

'N-no matter?' repeated Goyle in bewilderment, gazing at his master in disbelief. 'But, my Lord…'

'Hogwarts will come into our grasp in time,' his master assured them calmly. 'What is important is that the Aurors were preoccupied.'

Each other occupants of the table, spare for Malfoy, who wore the same look of contemplative satisfaction as their master, appeared to share in Goyle's astonishment.

'You weren't recognised, were you, Goyle?' inquired his master.

'N-no, my Lord.'

'Very good.'

Goyle's mind ticked over, fighting to understand, before he spluttered out, 'My Lord, if… if I may ask…'

'Ask away, Goyle. I would not deny you answers after the risk you took tonight.'

'Thank you, my Lord,' stammered Goyle. 'Only I don't understand. Urquhart and Flint have been captured… The Aurors know their history. They will have no trouble getting the Wizengamot's approval for administering Veritaserum. If they were to name any of us…'

To Goyle's surprise he saw his master give a wry smile before he emitted a soft, slow sigh. 'It is regrettable, yes. But you can rest easy - I'm afraid Urquhart and Flint will have no opportunity to name us. The Wizengamot will not convene until the morning and the hemlock essence you consumed before embarking this evening will take its effect long before then.'

A chill crept sprung within his chest and his head spun with panic. He made to stand. 'Hemlock?'

'Goyle, Goyle, calm yourself,' said his master, raising a steadying hand. 'You have nothing to fear. Drink up your mead. It has the antidote. How cruel do you believe me to be?'

His heart pulsing in his chest, he lowered himself back into his chair and snatched up his goblet with a shaking hand, draining it of mead. From across the table he heard Malfoy emit a murmur that sounded suspiciously close to laughter.

'You must forgive my deception, Goyle,' his master told him as he drank. 'I'll have you know I do not have a habit of poisoning my fellows when I offer them a drink but I had to face the truth of the matter; that is was likely not all of you would return to me this evening. Tell me, Goyle; did you see Harry Potter?'

The name spurred a chorus of hisses and jeers from around the table but Goyle could not bring himself to contribute. He set his goblet down heavily on the mahogany table and poured himself another helping of mead, his chest still pounding.

'Yes,' he said, recapping the decanter with a trembling hand. 'It was him who got Urquhart.'

Another round of jeers sounded around the table but they died away when their master raised a hand once more to call for silence. 'That is good,' his master informed them. 'Very good. We need to Auror department preoccupied as long as possible. You have bought us at least until the morning. I believe a toast is in order.' Goyle watched as his master's pale fingers closed around his own goblet and raised it into the air; around the table the men followed suit. 'To Gregory Goyle – a brave man. And of course Marcus Flint and Eustace Urquhart, who served the Dark Arts justly and faithfully. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten.'

There was a rustling of cloaks as goblets were raised to lips. Their master waited patiently for his servants to place their goblets back on the table before he spoke again. 'And now, Malfoy, please do tell. Was your mission tonight successful?'

Malfoy met his master's unwavering gaze and said in a voice that he seemed to intend only to reach their master, 'Yes, it was.'

The dim torchlight flickered across their master's face, creating the illusion of movement though the man was statue still as he gazed back at Malfoy. Several seconds that felt like an eternity passed before the man's lips twisted into a smile. 'Well done, my friend.'

In the dim light Malfoy seemed to radiate with joy that the other men did not understand. 'Thank you, my Lord.'

Their master turned back to the table to address the group at large and when he spoke again his voice seemed to prickle with excitement. 'Tonight we have taken perhaps our greatest leap forward yet. My friends, drink with me. Gamp is dead.'

The cheers that erupted around the table were almost deafening. Goblets were thrust into the air, grunts of glee and jest were shouted amongst the men, and, to Goyle's disgust, Malfoy nodded serenely at the praise thrown his way.

'Our next move in crucial,' their master informed them over the subsiding babble. He turned to the man sitting to his left and said coolly, 'And now you must be ready.'

'Of course, my Lord,' the man assured him gleefully from across the table. 'I promise you, the moment the Minister is within my reach…'

'I'm afraid that won't be necessary.'

The man's grin faltered in an instant. 'My Lord?'

'We each have imperative roles to play and we cannot risk you gaining too much attention too soon. I have another plan for Kingsley Shacklebolt.'

'You have another servant in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?' asked Nott eagerly.

'I have servants in all the necessary nooks, Nott.'

'And Hogwarts?' asked Goyle before he could stop himself.

His master gave a smile. 'Goyle, you must forgive my misdemeanour but if I had wanted Hogwarts penetrated this evening it would have been, but it is my belief that we do not currently need the school.'

'May I make a suggestion, my Lord?' began Malfoy.

'Of course, Malfoy.'

'You are aware that many amongst us have children returning to the school tomorrow,' began Malfoy. 'Should it be suggested to them that you require assistance…'

'That is a fine offer, Malfoy,' said his master. 'And I am sure your sons and daughter will make valuable servants to the Dark Lord, but I must ask you to forget Hogwarts for the time.'

Malfoy gave a curt nod, his grey eyes fixed upon his master, before he spoke again, now with a definite tone of urgency in his voice. 'My Lord, excuse my curiosity, but I am wondering.'

'Wonder away, my friend. I believe you have earned it.'

Malfoy gave twisted smile. 'I cannot help but wonder what are we to do with Harry Potter?'

Heads whipped towards their master to gauge his reaction, but the man's face was as unreadable as ever before he gave a dry smile. 'Ah, Malfoy, will your vendetta against that man ever end?'

Goyle gave a snort of laughter but his master's gaze did not shift from Malfoy, who was no longer smiling.

'Do not concern yourself with Potter, Malfoy,' their master informed him. 'There is much to come in the next few months, and I do not want you thinking of that man. He is getting old – he is tired. He is not of our concern for this moment. There are far greater things in our futures. But you have my assurance, Malfoy, as I believe you deserve it; Harry Potter will die, and your master will rise once more.'

* * *

Albus Potter woke to a feeling somewhere between dread and excitement before he recalled the promise he had made to himself the previous evening.

He gave a heaving groan and shifted into his side. The alarm clock on his beside table read quarter past seven, promising another fifteen minutes before his mother would arrive to drag him from bed, and so he reached for the leather-bound notebook that lay resting beside the alarm clock. He lay it on the pillow beside him and flipped to the appropriate page, scanning the notes he had scribbled out by moonlight, before he reached for the quill that lay on his bedside table and made a scribbled entry.

_1st September 2021_

_First day back at school. Wish me luck or kill me. I'm not sure which._

He tossed the quill aside and pulled himself from his dismally single bed that his mother would not trust him transfigure into a double and crossed to the foot of his dresser where his trunk was waiting for his departure later that morning. Stowing his journal into the hidden compartment he had added beneath the trunk's lid, he collected his preselected clothing from his dresser for the train trip before leaving his bedroom.

Hecate Hall was silent as he passed beneath the stained glass windows towards the bathroom, his siblings still dozing; however, once he was showered and dressed, the building was rife with the usual array of sounds that emerged each year on September first.

Footsteps stormed up and down corridor of the house's upper level and voices rang from outside the bathroom door. He lingered beneath the mirror, spending more time that he typically would trying to flatten his mess of ebony hair.

'Mum, I can't find my cardigan!'

'Which cardigan, Lily? You have thousands-'

'The green one!'

'Which green one?' He could hear his mother ask over the thundering footsteps of his brother storming up the passageway to meet them.

'The green one! With the cable knit-'

'Oi, Ginny, where's the broom polish?'

'What?'

'The broom polish. The polish for brooms.'

'Oh, for god's sake, James, it's where it always is. In the shed on the shelf above the dragon manure-'

'Yes, mother, I looked there. I do live in this house too, you know-'

'Mum!'

'Lily, stop yelling! It will be around here somewhere - and James, don't just stand there staring at me. If it's not in the shed I have no idea.'

His brother gave a heaving groan and his stomping footsteps began again, drowning out the sound of his sister's and mother's bickering, and an instant later the bathroom door was wrenched open.

'Al, where's the - are you doing your hair?'

Under scrutiny of his brother's delighted brown eyes, Albus whipped his hand away from his unruly fringe. 'No.'

'Don't worry, you look very pretty. Where's the broom polish?'

'How should I know?'

'Because you had it last.'

'No, I didn't.'

'Yes, you did. I saw your dismal attempt of trying to mount dad's broom the other day. Slipped right off into the mud, didn't you?'

'I did not!'

'Yes, you did. Finlay and I were watching from the window. It was bloody hilarious. So where's the broom polish?'

'I told you, I don't know.'

James gave a sigh of annoyance. 'Fine, but if I can't find it you're buying a new bottle.' And he turned on his heel before Albus could conjure a retort and strode back down the passageway to hurry down the stairs and a moment later Albus heard the back door slam shut as James headed out into the yard to scout for the broom polish.

Scowling through his blushing cheeks, Albus gave himself one final forlorn look in the bathroom mirror, before he himself left the bathroom and trudged down the passageway to the staircase, the rising voices of his mother and sister growing muffled as he headed into the kitchen.

The fire crackled in the hearth and beside it sat the kitchen table, at which he found the hunched figure of his father, slumped forward in the chair closest to the flame, adorned in the heavy cloak he donned on raids and nursing a steaming cup of tea in his calloused hands. His father turned tired eyes towards him at the sound of footsteps and croaked out a dreary, 'Morning, Al.'

'Morning,' Albus replied, taking a seat across from the man. 'When did you get home?'

'While you were in the shower.'

'Want some oats?' asked Albus as he poured himself a bowl.

His father declined with a wave of his hand and a peaky smile and sipped his tea in silence while he watched his son eat.

The voices from the house's upper level had now reached the level of yelling, and to cover the sound Albus asked his father, 'Where were you last night?'

'Just surveillance. Nothing important,' his father told him, as was his response whenever any of his children inquired about his work. 'You all packed?'

'I think so.'

'Looking forward to getting back?'

Albus shrugged. 'I suppose.'

'You suppose?'

Albus gave another shrug. 'James says fifth year is really hard.'

'You'll manage, Al. Don't listen to James.'

Albus nodded and gazed down at the soggy mess of oats. He no longer felt hungry in the slightest.

Before his father could make any more inquiries, the sound of thundering footsteps started down the staircase before Lily burst into the kitchen, followed closely by their scowling mother.

'For Merlin's sake, Lily, would you calm down?' Ginny snapped at the redhead.

'Hello, darling,' Harry said to his daughter, who had crossed to the stove top to set the kettle to boil without a glance towards the kitchen table.

'I can't leave without that cardigan! I'm going to have to change my entire outfit now!' moaned Lily.

'Then go change if it matters so much to you,' Ginny growled back, hands on her hips, before glancing across to her husband and asking briskly, 'When did you get back?'

'Just now. How are you?'

'Have you eaten?'

'No, I'm fine.'

Ginny let out a huff of frustration and jabbed out her wand in the direction of he kitchen cabinet, from which a bowl flew and landed neatly on the table before Harry and was then filled to the brim with oats by the levitating carton.

'Really, I'm not hungry-'

'You've been out all night: eat,' Ginny instructed of him. 'And Lily, if you think you're leaving this house with nothing but tea for breakfast...'

'Fine, I'll stay here then!' barked Lily. 'That was my favourite cardigan, Mum!'

'Could you stop yelling at me, please? I don't know why I'm to blame for your cardigan disappearing-'

'Because you had it last! I put it in the laundry and now it's gone!'

'Well, perhaps if you did your own washing for once you'd know where it was.'

Lily gaped at her mother, mortified, before she flew to the door of the passageway, only to collide with James who had returned from the garden looking sullen.

'Oi, watch it-'

'Move, James!' Lily snarled at him, and she pushed past her eldest brother and disappeared up the passageway, leaving the sound of stomping footsteps in her wake.

James glanced back at the remaining occupants of the kitchen. 'What's up with her?'

Ginny rolled her eyes and turned to the stove to tend to the kettle that Lily had abandoned. 'Your sister has lost her cardigan,' Ginny informed James curtly, and received a bellowed, 'I didn't lose it, you did!' from down the passageway.

'Oh, the humanity,' sighed James, crossing to the table to join his brother and father. 'Well, Al, the broom polish has vanished so that will be three galleons please.'

'That's not fair!' snapped Albus.

'Why is Albus reimbursing you for the broom polish?' asked Ginny shrewdly.

'Because in his state of heartbreak he's misplaced it and is too depressed to remember where it is.'

'No, I didn't!'

'For god's sake, James, why would Albus know where the broom polish is? He doesn't even fly,' growled Ginny.

'I do some times,' grumbled Albus.

'You do not. You slip off as soon as you're airborne,' James dismissed, slicing off two pieces of bread from the loaf with a couple of flicks of his wand.

'You're such a prat, James.'

'And you're a virgin and three galleons in debt, Ducky.'

'There's a new bottle of polish in the study,' intervened their father quickly before a red-faced Albus could snap back.

James looked up, his wand poised over his plate as he toasted his bread. 'Really?'

Harry nodded. 'Take it if you like.'

James gave a dramatic roll of his eyes and got to his feet. 'Well now you tell me.'

Stifling a sigh, Harry watched as his eldest son pushed his chair back and disappeared up the passageway before turning back to pick half-heartedly at his bowl of oats. Ginny joined them at the table, a cup of tea in hand, scowling at the half-toasted bread on James's deserted plate. 'Why does nobody eat in this family?'

'You know how he gets when he's going back to school,' Harry reminded her gently.

'He's seventeen years old. He could at least put his own dishes in the sink.'

As if in response, Albus got to his feet and collected his half-eaten bowl of oats and James's plate from the table, crossing to the kitchen bin and scraping away the remains.

'Thank you, Ducky,' sighed Ginny, as Albus set about washing the dishes.

Wincing at the pet name his mother refused to let die, he assured her it was nothing and continued with the dishes.

'You look awful,' he heard his mother inform his father over his shoulder.

'Thank you.'

'I thought you said you'd be back by one.'

'Supposedly I was going to be but we got called out to...' Harry caught himself, pausing for what Albus knew was a moment to design a censored account of the evening for his son's ears. 'There was a mix-up in the office...'

Albus set the dishes on the drying rack and departed from the kitchen to allow his parents to talk freely, having no desire to listen to his father's abridged version of events, and trudged through the house out into the backyard to the family's makeshift owlery, wondering how much time he would sacrifice trying to coax his barn owl into her cage and wishing, rather anxiously, he was already on the train with his cousin bound for Hogwarts.

* * *

Although she would never admit to anyone, Rose Weasley had a habit of inspecting her body in the mirror before she dressed. Too many freckles and too many bones. Although the previous year had at least seen her grow somewhat into her lanky limbs that were all too thin for a fifteen year old, her legs were too long and her chest too flat.

'But it doesn't matter!' her best friend assured her whenever the conversation approached the topic of breast size. 'You're so pretty!'

The lie was a kind one and she appreciated it, even if she would never allow that to become apparent.

She retrieved her hairbrush from her beside table and tended to her long, crimson curls, watching the girl in her mirror and listening to the familiar, frantic noises in the house's lower floors as her parents and brother performed their scrambled morning routine.

Setting down the hairbrush she crossed to her dresser and pulled out clothes for the day, dressing as slowly as she would dare before her mother would venture to the terrace's third floor to find what was keeping her daughter. Pulling on her sweater, her eyes came to rest on the crimson and gold badge laying waiting on her dressing. She reached for it and gave it another of the frequent examinations she had performed that summer; she was almost surprised her frequent thumbing had not yet begun to wear away at it.

She had not wanted it and yet she had received it; she had known she would, and as arrogant as knew she was she couldn't help but wish it had been bestowed on another girl.

With one last fleeting look in her mirror she moved to retrieve her luggage, stowing the badge deep within the depths of her satchel.

* * *

By the age of fifteen, Albus had mastered the art of keeping out of people's way.

'Do you ever get a word in?' his first and only girlfriend had asked him in an undertone when he had her over for dinner at the beginning of the summer; he had given her one of his mumbled excuses, and continued through the dinner largely separate from the conversation held between his family and their guest.

Throughout the car ride to London in which Lily threw out accusations concerning the whereabouts of her cardigan that went largely ignored and James and their parents once again started up their heated discussion as to how exactly finishing his NEWTs served in James's best interest, Albus tried his best to keep his attention focused on the bristling green countryside that rolled by the window. His mind was full of his looming Ordinary Wizarding Levels and the prospect of implementing the plan he had devised the previous evening, and though he attempted heartily to rally himself into excitement, he arrived at King's Cross station feeling nothing but anxious.

'I told Posie I'd be wearing my new black dress,' moaned Lily, who had changed outfits several times before leaving Godric's Hollow in the hopes of compensating for the loss of her cardigan.

'I'm sure Posie won't even notice,' her father assured her, as he pulled the car into a vacant spot outside the station's facade. This reassurance was apparently ill received by Lily, who refused to speak to her father as they unloaded and transferred their school trunks to trolleys.

Struggling with the weight of his own trunk, Albus was forced to accept his mother's help, ignoring James's sniggers. His father had told him many times that he had been shorter and scrawnier even than Albus in his youth, but had shot up in his later years of school. Albus hoped to god that this would be yet another genetic trait he had inherited from the man.

'And you wonder why your girlfriend dumped you,' James chortled as they strode through the station, manoeuvring their trolleys around the hoards of Muggles.

Albus did not reply, for he was preoccupied with pushing the heavy trolley, until he asked in an undertone, 'Can't you do mine too?'

'If you're okay with having my blood on your hands,' replied James, nodding ahead at their mother, who was too busy bickering with Lily to see her eldest son propelling his trolley forward not by hand but by the wand concealed up his sleeve.

'She's not even looking!' snapped back Albus.

'Don't cry, Ducky. You'll be seventeen one day.'

'You never do anything for me! You promised that when you turned seventeen you'd transfigure my bed, and you still haven't done it!'

'Why do you want me to transfigure your bed? It's not like you need to fit two people in it.'

Albus opened his mouth to retort, but was cut short by their father's warning voice from behind them. 'James.'

The brothers glanced over their shoulder at their father who was pushing Lily's trolley and watching his eldest son with a sharp look, his eyes cast on James's jacket sleeve. James gave a dramatic roll of his eyes and lifted the charm, grudgingly taking hold of the trolley.

They reached platform and, taking her trolley from her father, Lily hurried forward towards the space the separated platforms nine and ten.

'Lily, you have to check if anyone's watching!' Ginny hissed at the girl.

'I did!'

'You did not. I've told you a hundred times-'

But her words went unheard, for Lily had disappeared through the bricks that concealed platform nine and three quarters. Scowling at the space from which her daughter had just vanished, Ginny moved forward and she too dissolved into the bricks.

James strode forward to follow, but his father caught him by the shoulder. 'Wait a minute, James.'

'Oh, God, here we go,' sighed James

'Yes, we do.' Harry lowered his voice to avoid being heard by any nearby Muggles. 'You're if age now, and with that comes a certain level of responsibility.'

'Yes, Harry, I'm aware.'

'Upholding the statute of secrecy is nothing to be scoffed at...'

Albus was no longer listening, and with a great shove he pushed his trolley forward, taking a run at the brick wall and wincing as he always did as he collided with the would-be brick wall and finally emerged onto the concealed platform.

He spotted his mother a short distance away and with a jolting relief he caught sight of his cousin standing with her, accompanied by her parents and brother. He hurried over.

'Morning, Al,' greeted his uncle, clapping him on the back. 'Where've James and Harry got to?'

'Oh, I think they're coming in a minute,' he said, avoiding his mother's shrewd gaze, knowing that his father had no intention of telling his wife about James's misdemeanour. He turned to Rose. 'Hi.'

'Hi,' she replied. 'Why are you wearing that?'

He glanced down at the old Quidditch jumper and his cheeks reddened slightly. 'Oh, I just found it in the cupboard while I was packing.'

'You found a Chudley Canons jumper in the cupboard? Albus, you hate Quidditch.'

'Leave him alone, Rosie, the man's come to his senses,' said Ron, beaming at his nephew before giving him another clap on the back. 'Good choice, Al. What brought you around?'

Albus was spared from answering by the arrival of Harry and James, the latter looking mutinous, and was silent as they exchanged greetings with Ron, Hermione and their children.

'Harry, you look exhausted! You weren't there last night, were you?' asked Hermione, after giving him a hug.

Harry gave her a quick nod before he turned down to Hugo.

'Hugo, what's going on? You've grown three foot since last week.'

'I know, he better stop soon or he'll be taller than me,' sighed Ron, throwing an arm around his son.

'You excited?' Harry asked his nephew.

The boy nodded eagerly before asking, 'What where you doing last night, Harry?'

'Oh, Hugo, don't start,' sighed Hermione, and she brushed a stray curl from her son's eyes.

'Mum, get off, people are looking...'

Albus was familiar with the stares his father, uncle and aunt attracted whenever they ventured out into wizarding spaces together, but this made him no more comfortable with the pointing fingers and hushed whispers directed their way.

'Where's Lily gotten to?' asked Harry.

'She went off to find Posie and Zelda,' said Ginny with a rather strained voice. 'She said to say goodbye to you though.'

'Oh, right,' said Harry lightly, though Albus did not miss the disappointment in his eyes.

'Not to break your hearts but I might follow her lead,' said James. 'Want to come find Finlay and Xan with me, Hugo?'

Hugo nodded eagerly, but Hermione gave an affronted gasp.

'Hugo, no, let us at least wave you off!'

'Merlin, mum, do you want to come on the train with me?' grumbled Hugo.

'Listen to your mother, mate,' said Ron. 'We're not going to see you for three months!'

'Don't worry, I'll find you on the train,' James assured him. 'I can't let you be seen hanging around with Al. It will tarnish your reputation before you even get sorted.'

'James...' started Ginny tiredly, but James stooped to kiss her cheek and she decided against arguing. 'Bye, darling. Be good, won't you?'

'You say that as if I'm a delinquent, mother,' said James as he gave his godmother a brief hug.

'We wouldn't have you any other way,' said Ron as they shook hands in goodbye.

James then turned to his father. 'Don't miss me too much, will you?'

'I'll try not to,' said Harry as his son conceded to share a hug. 'Tell me who you end up with on the team.'

James gave a grimace. 'I wouldn't get your hopes up. You gonna try out, Hugo?'

Hugo gave an excited grin. 'Me? But first years aren't allowed their own brooms!'

'Sometimes they make exceptions,' said Harry.

'Yeah, and you fly better than half of the idiots we had last year,' James told his cousin. 'Anyway, I'll see you lot at Christmas. Better be prepared to help Al with his trunk, Rosie.'

Rose stifled a grin. 'Go away, James.'

'As you wish.' He gave his family one final goodbye and flicked his wand at the trolley, free to do so out of sight of Muggles, and disappeared through the crowds of parents and students in search of his friends.

'Well, I suppose you three better get on board,' Ginny told them. 'You have everything, Ducky?'

'Yes, Mum.'

'Good boy.' She stooped to hug him goodbye, looking slightly forlorn. 'I'll miss you heaps.'

'Miss you too,' he muttered, feeling very aware of a nearby group of boys from his year level. He broke free of her grip and turned to his father.

'Bye, dad.'

'See you, Al.' His father gave him a hug which was, to Albus's relief, brief, and he pulled away to see Hermione clutching Hugo tightly against her torso.

'You'll write to us as soon as you get sorted, won't you?'

'Yes, Mum,' sighed Hugo impatiently.

'And if you need anything at all you can ask Rose.'

'Yes, Mum.'

'And she'll help you find your classrooms if you need-'

'Will I? That's news,' said Rose, but her mother ignored her.

'And we'll miss you so, so much, Hugo-'

'Alright, dear, I think he gets it,' said Ron, grinning as he laid a hand on his wife's shoulder. 'See you, mate.'

'Bye, Dad,' said Hugo, giving his dad a hug once relinquished from his mother's grip. 'Think we'll win on the weekend?'

'I bloody well hope so. If we lose to Puddlemere United with Sloper out on a broken wrist, I'll let you drive home at Christmas.'

'You will not!' snapped Hermione, but Hugo looked delighted.

'Bye, Rosie,' said Ron, giving his daughter a fierce hug. 'If Smith gives you any more trouble let me know and I'll deal with him.'

'God, Dad, all he did was tell me I couldn't sit next to Chandra in his class anymore.'

'So? You're my daughter! You can sit with whoever you like-'

'Can we get on already?' urged Hugo, casting a longing look at the scarlet steam engine. 'I want to go find James and Xan.'

'Alright, let's get moving,' said Harry, and he and Ron grabbed hold of Albus and Hugo's trolleys respectfully and started towards the train. Ginny and Hugo followed them onwards, Hugo almost skipping with excitement.

Albus waited with Rose as she hugged her mother goodbye. 'Bye, darling,' said Hermione, looking slightly tearful. 'Watch out for your brother, won't you?'

Rose gave a nod.

'And don't let him do anything silly,' added Hermione in an undertone.

'I'm not a babysitter, Mum.'

'I'm aware, Rose, but I hoped you could your dad and I a favour.'

'Yes, yes. I promise I won't let him fall off the astronomy tower.'

'That's not funny,' Hermione told her tersely, frowning down at the redhead. 'You haven't got your badge on.'

'I'll put it on later.'

'But what if one of the students need to ask you something?'

'Then they can ask me. I'm able to articulate words without a prefect's badge.'

Her mother pursed her lips. 'Rose, being a prefect is a huge responsibility, and it's your job to look out for other students-'

'Okay, Mum, I'll put it on on the train. Come on. Hugo's about to burst.'

Looking as if she wanted to say more, Hermione helped Rose push her trolley to the train where Harry and Ron had already loaded on the other trunks and soon added Rose's.

'Well, have a great time,' Harry said to the three of them. 'Hope the workload's not too bad, you two. Good luck, Hugo.'

'Thanks!' sang Hugo, visibly bouncing on the balls of his feet with anticipation.

'Gryffindor won't know what's hit it,' said Ron fondly, raising a hand to ruffle Hugo's hair.

Hugo grinned around at them and gave his parents a final hug, ignoring the tears in his mother's eyes, before he scrambled onto the train.

'Hugo, wait for your sister!' Hermione called after him. 'Goodbye, you two. Can you make sure he doesn't get lost?'

'Yeah, due to all the many wrong turns you can make on a train,' said Ron.

Hermione have him a pointed look and he kissed her cheek apologetically before checking his watch. 'Blimey, it's about to leave. Get on you, two. There's Hugo at the window.'

Waving to their parents, Rose and Albus climbed onto the train and joined Hugo at the window. The whistle blew and with their parents waving at them and Hugo looking delighted, the train began to roll slowly forward.

'Take care, you lot!' Ron called to them, as he and the other parents strolled along the side of the train.

'You're gonna love it, Hugo!' Ginny assured him, beaming.

Harry raised a hand in farewell, quickening his pace to keep in stride with the train. 'Good luck-'

His called farewell fell short by the arrival of a tawny owl that had swooped down through the steam of the train upon him, landing heavily on his shoulder and brandishing a letter in his face.

'Bye, Hugo!' Hermione called, almost at a run now, trying to keep sight of her children before they fell out of sight. 'Rose, you should-'

But Rose never found out what she should do as, like her godfather, her mother was soon interrupted by another envelope-clutching tawny owl that swooped upon them, causing Hermione to give a little squeal.

'Oi, watch it!' They heard Ron grumble at the Owls, which had been joined by two more carrying azure envelopes, as the train picked up speed.

'Bye, mum! Bye, dad!' Hugo called, but his voice was whipped away from the wind, and only Ginny continued to wave as they sped off. Hugo, waving fervently, missed what Rose and Albus saw; Harry and Hermione tearing open the letters, Ron trying to wave away the persistent owls that continued to swoop down at them, and Harry and Hermione, ashen-faced, exchanging looks of what could only be called horror, before the train rounded the bend and their parents fell from view.

All around them students straightened up from the windows, excited conversation breaking out, as they began to flock away down the corridor to find compartments.

Rose and Albus turned to face each other, Albus with his pale face twisted with worry and Rose wearing a look of frowning suspicion. Hugo, however, continued to beam and he rounded on his sister and cousin and chirped, 'Let's go find James!'

'There must have been about ten owls there by the time we turned the corner,' said Rose without a glance towards her brother.

'What do you think that was about?' asked Albus wearily. 'I thought the blue envelopes...'

'Rose, come on!' urged Hugo, giving Rose's sweater sleeve a sharp tug.

'It means they're urgent, yes,' said Rose, brushing away her brother.

'But that could be anything,' suggested Albus. 'I mean, it might not be anything really bad...'

'Al, come on!' moaned Hugo, rounding on his cousin.

Albus glanced down at him. 'Hugo, you should probably stay with us...'

'No, he shouldn't,' dismissed Rose. 'Hugo, go find James if you're gonna be a brat.'

'Okay!'

'Hugo, wait...' started Albus, but Hugo had already turned on his heel and dashed away up the corridor, glancing into the compartments he passed in search of James.

'We should go after him,' Albus informed Rose pleadingly. 'Those letters...'

'Oh, Al, what could those letters possibly have to do with who Hugo sits with on the train?' sighed Rose.

Albus watched rather helplessly as Rose turned away from him and started up the length of the train away from the direction Hugo had headed, and Albus hurried after her.

'What if there's an emergency?' asked Albus beseechingly.

'Then he's better off with James anyway. He got an O for his Defense OWLs, remember?'

Albus said nothing as Rose continued up the corridor, lugging her luggage along with her; he did, of course, remember, and the thought of it gave his stomach a sharp pinch. Perhaps, he thought, as he was jostled down the corridor of the swaying train in Rose's wake, it would be best if they too were to find James and their cousins, but then how were they to find the whole bunch on the train?

'Wait, Rosie, shouldn't you be in the prefects compartment?' he asked her.

'I'll go later.'

'But what if there's some problem?'

'I'm sure they'll manage without me.'

'But, Rosie, don't you think-'

Albus's words were drowned out by a deafening scream that set his owl screeching, accompanied by a heavy force that bowled Albus sideways and sent him colliding against the train's window before he could reach his wand. Straightening up hurriedly, he could no longer see Rose, for she had been obscured from his view by a head of long, sleek black hair of a girl who was continuing to squeal with excitement.

'Chandra, calm down, you nearly killed Al,' Rose huffed, half laughing, as she tried to disentangle herself from the girl's crushing hug.

'Where were you? I missed you! I tried to find you on the platform but we were running _so, so, so_ late because Lydia wanted to wear the tartan skirt I got last week in London with you and she wouldn't take it off until Mum made her! It was _awful!'_

After a summer's absence, the babble of Rose's best friend was even more incomprehensible to Albus than usual and, massaging the point in his ribs where Chandra had elbowed him out of the way in her beeline for Rose, he waited for the girls to finally break apart before Chandra turned to face him.

'Oh, Al, I'm sorry! Are you okay? How was your summer? Why don't you two have your prefects badges?'

Albus face flushed scarlet before Rose intervened. 'Look – there's a free compartment. Let's get inside.'

Rose slid into the compartment and crossed to the window seat where she was joined by Chandra. Albus stowed his trunk away, slumped back into a seat opposite them and was visited by the familiar feeling of intruding on Rose and Chandra's breathless conversations.

'I just can't wait to be going back to school,' Chandra informed them wistfully. 'Lydia has been absolutely mad and now that Lavender's got that job at Gringotts she just thinks she's _so_ brilliant – it's just unbearable. God, Rosie, you are so lucky you're the oldest.' She gave a wistful sigh and then glanced around the compartment, a frown passing over her exquisitely pretty face, before she turned to Rose and asked, as if only just having noticed he was absent, 'Rosie, where's Hugo?'

'He went off to find James.'

Albus was all too familiar with the effect James's name had on Chandra, but her flushing cheeks and wide, brown eyes could not help but irk him, and he preoccupied himself with finding some treats for his disgruntled owl.

'Oh, where'd they go? Should we go find them?' asked Chandra innocently.

Rose fixed her with a knowing look and shook her head dismally. 'Honestly, Chandra, you could have any boy in school and you want James?'

'Oh, Rosie, not every boy!' dismissed Chandra. 'There's that boy on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team who never looks me in the eye, and Johnny Kirke is still just obsessed with Mei Zhao, and Scorpius Malfoy is always so rude when we have to work together in Potions. Isn't he, Al?'

Albus gave a shrug as he poked his owl treats into his owl's cage. 'I don't know. Malfoy's rude to everybody.'

'Al, you've never even spoken to him,' sighed Rose.

'You know he's been made prefect?' said Chandra breathlessly, as if offering them information on the whereabouts of the Fountain of Youth. 'I saw him at the station and he had his badge on, and so has his girlfriend, and Lucien Runcorn got it for Slytherin; he came over and told me when he put my luggage on the train – I don't really know why...'

'Don't you?' asked Rose teasingly, but Chandra continued as if she hadn't been interrupted.

'And I'm not sure about the Hufflepuff boys, but I ran into Cassandra Kettleburn the other day in Diagon Alley-'

Albus fingers fumbled and the owl treats spilled onto the floor, prompting an impatient hoot from his owl.

'Oh, damn… sorry, Rhea…'

'Honestly, Al,' sighed Rose, raising her wand and sending the owl treats swooping back to Albus.

'Sorry, sorry…' mumbled Albus, returning to feeding Rhea. 'You saw Cassie?'

'Oh, I forgot, you'd know that!' Chandra trilled at Albus. 'That's so nice that you two both got made prefect!'

'No, I… I didn't get it.'

Chandra blinked at him. 'What?'

'I didn't get it. I think Hamish Coote might have.'

Chandra gazed at him before whipping around to face Rose as for explanation, but Rose was busying herself rummaging around her satchel.

'Oh…' murmured Chandra. 'Oh, Al, I'm sorry, I didn't… That doesn't make any sense! Do you think there was some mistake? I mean, Hamish is sweet and all but… but he's a bit silly, you know? He always wants me to partner up in Charms even though he knows I'm hopeless at Charms – I think he's teasing me, and he really shouldn't be made prefect if he's going to do that, and it would just make so much more sense if you and Cassie were both prefects.' A wicked smile spread across Chandra's face. 'Oooh, imagine if you guys could be able to do the night patrols together-'

'We broke up.'

If it was possible Chandra's cheeks reddened even further. 'Oh, Al… Oh, dear… Oh, that's so sad! What happened? It's so hard to keep it going with someone over the summer! I mean when I was with Donny Hopkins last year and we went on Christmas break and Mum and Dad wanted to go to the Canary Islands he got so upset, and I tried to tell him that it wasn't my idea to go, but he just got so clingy! Maybe now you're at school you could make it work… Cassie's so nice and so sweet and so pretty…'

Albus forced himself to shrug. 'I don't know. She's a bit boring to be honest.'

This statement, said with as little care as Albus could possibly manage, achieved the rarely seen phenomenon of Rose snapping shut a book. 'Excuse you?' she asked dryly.

'Oh, you know, she doesn't have much to say.'

Chandra forced a nod. 'Oh, yes, I… I suppose…'

'Albus, after she dumped you you didn't leave your room for a week,' Rose reminded him tersely. 'You were utterly obsessed with her. What are you on about?'

Albus gave another shrug. 'I don't know… I can do better.'

'Oh, of course you can,' drawled Rose. 'When was the last time you even spoke to a girl that wasn't a blood-relative?'

'Well, I'm talking to Chandra, aren't I?'

'Chandra doesn't count. She only talks to you because she's too nice to ignore you.'

'That's not true!' protested Chandra urgently. 'Al, I love talking to you! I mean, I ignored you a bit in first year but that's just because I didn't really know you and you never talked and I thought you might be mute but then Rosie said you were really nice and that you were just a bit shy and-'

Chandra was spared from finishing her explanation by a sharp rap on their compartment's door, and they turned to see Connor Davies wearing his signature crooked grin with his dark hair swept artfully from his eyes.

'Hi, Chandra. How are you?'

'Hi, Connor! I like your sweater! I'm good, how are you?'

'Can't complain. Hey, Weasley. Hey, Potter.'

'Hey,' they chorused back, Albus glaring at Davies's aforementioned sweater with distaste.

Davies eyes flickering back to Chandra, and when he spoke again it was clear his words were only meant for her. 'So the guys and I are having a drink down the carriage. Kienan got some fire-whiskey aboard. Wanna come join?'

Chandra glanced at Rose to see her shrug in response before Chandra gave an eager nod and got to her feet. Receiving Albus and Rose's assurance that they would meet her on the platform, she skipped to the door where Albus could not help but notice that Davies slung his arm securely around her waist and, if he had not had better things to think about, he could have sworn he saw the Quidditch captain give her neck a fleeting nuzzle.

He turned back to Rose to see that she had returned to her book. 'Since when have they been together?'

Rose glanced up at him over her book with a look that matched the drawl in her voice. 'I'm sorry?'

'Chandra and Davies. You didn't tell me they were together.'

'They're not together,' dismissed Rose. 'They're just sleeping together. It's not like it's exclusive or anything.'

Albus goggled at her. 'They're sleeping together?'

'Yeah.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, Albus.'

'But… but… why?'

Rose placed her book face down on the table and gave him something between a smirk and a frown. 'Oh, Al. You can't truly be that clueless.'

'No! I mean - I mean not why, just... just how!'

Rose let out a huff of laughter. 'Well, you see, Al...'

'Oh, shut up, Rosie, I don't mean it like that! I mean - I mean how can he do that? He shouldn't do that to her!'

Rose cocked an eyebrow and Albus immediately regretted his choice of words. 'Do that to her? Do what to her? Have sex with her when she wants him to?'

'I didn't mean it like that...'

'She's not a child, Albus. She's allowed to choose who she sleeps with.'

'Yes, I know but-'

'So because Davies is a boy he gets to pick out any girl he wants to sleep with and of course we'll all just submit to it because he's so damn gorgeous, but when a girl wants to have sex with a boy she's obviously too stupid to realise that she's being manipulated-'

'I didn't say that…'

'- and we need guys like you to come save us? Vanquish people like Davies and his big, scary co-'

'Okay, Rosie, forget it,' said Albus hurriedly. 'Don't tell her I said anything about it, okay?'

At that Rose fixed her eyes upon him with the same look of derision he had become so accustomed to receiving from her. 'Why do you care so much?'

'I don't care!' Albus assured her quickly. 'But… but they… They're going back to school, and they could get in trouble, and they're only fifteen-'

'Do you think it would have been best to wait until marriage?'

'Oh, shut up, Rosie,' he grumbled. 'I just thought she would have waited longer.'

'I had no idea you spent so much time thinking about Chandra's sex-life.'

'Well, I'm sorry I'm looking out for your friend! Personally I don't know why you _don't_ care.'

'Oh god, Al, what do you think I am? The sex police? It's not a big deal. Everyone does it.'

Cheeks flushing red, Albus glanced away to stare stubbornly out the window. The amber farmland rolled past the speeding train and the blaring blue of the sky made him think of Cassie Kettleburn's eyes. 'Not everyone does it.'

'Just because you haven't doesn't mean no one else can,' Rose informed him. 'Once you've done it it won't seem like such a big deal.'

'How would you know?'

To his utmost surprise, Rose's freckled cheeks took on a degree of colour and without another word she reopened her book in her lap.

'Are you serious?' he demanded of her.

'Shut up, Al.'

'Oh my god, Rose! When?'

'Is it any of your business?'

'You could have told me! We're supposed to be best mates!'

'I didn't want to burden you. Obviously it's a sensitive topic and I couldn't add another monumental tragedy to your life.'

'Do your Mum and Dad know?'

Rose gave a burst of laughter. 'Are you serious? Do you think I'd be sitting here if dad knew? He would have locked me in the cellar.'

'But… but… how?'

'For god's sake, Al…'

'I mean... with who?'

Rose gave a heavy sigh and snapped her book shut impatiently. 'With that Muggle boy who lives down the road.'

'The tall one?'

'Yeah.'

'Since when were you seeing him?'

'I'm not seeing him,' said Rose. 'Well, not anymore. I suppose I was for a little while. I saw him at the supermarket – the Muggle shops at the beginning of the summer and he asked how my exams went - he thinks I go to school in Manchester - and then we just got talking and he asked if I wanted to get a coffee. We just kind of hung out for a few weeks and then his parents were going down to Dorset for a few days so I told mum and dad I was going to Chandra's for the night. It wasn't a big deal.'

Albus gazed at her. He could never remember an exact moment in their lives when he had noticed her getting older, but now before him here she was; infinitely brilliant and awful Rosie who now seemed ten years his senior, and he could not help but ask, 'Well… what was it like?'

'Al, you can't ask that.'

He dropped her gaze. 'Sorry.'

He heard her give a muffled sigh before she spoke. 'It was fine. It's overrated. I guess it gets better the more you do it but afterwards I wasn't really interested in seeing him again. I wouldn't rush if I were you.'

Albus gave a nod and turned back to the window. There were several seconds of silence before he spoke once more. 'I bet if I asked Cassie she'd do it. I mean, I know she wanted to…'

'I thought she was too boring?'

'I didn't mean that.'

'I should hope not. Why'd you say it? Did you think it would impress Chandra?'

'No,' he told her quickly. 'I just… I'm sick of people feeling sorry for me.'

'Al, you worry too much.'

'I know I do! That's my point! Everyone thinks I'm so… I don't know. Everything James has ever called me.'

Rose rolled her eyes. 'There isn't a soul on earth who James hasn't psychologically scarred.'

'Yeah, but at least you can hide it,' he grumbled. 'I've been thinking about this all summer and I'm over it. I worked it all out last night. This year's gonna be different… I'm gonna… gonna…'

'Going to what?' asked Rose tiredly.

'I don't know. Anything. Ask out Zaina Faheem, maybe.'

'She's going out with Malfoy.'

'Okay, fine. I'll ask out someone… I don't know. I'll join the Quidditch team.'

'Quidditch?' scoffed Rose. 'You've never played Quidditch in your life.'

'That's not true! I've been practicing all summer. I'm not that bad anymore.'

'Is that why you're wearing that stupid jumper?'

'It's not a stupid jumper! I like it.'

'You do not. You look hideous. You look like a tangerine.'

'I do not! You only hate them because you like annoying your dad.'

Rose gave a great huff of frustration and got to her feet, hoisting her satchel over her shoulder and stuffing her book back inside it. 'I'm going to have to ask for a brief intermission. This conversation is giving me a headache.'

'Oh, don't be like that, Rosie…'

'I'm not being like anything. I have to go to the prefect's carriage. I'll be back later, okay? And don't worry; I'll be sure to let Cassie know you're still willing to shag her.'

And with that she turned on her heel and strode from the compartment, sliding the door shut behind her and Albus was left with the familiar solitary silence, broken only by the rumble of the train and Rhea's soft hoots. He gave a sigh, loathing himself, and rested his head against the train's window, gazing at the sky and wishing the train ride to be over.

* * *

**Song credit: _Stuck On a Puzzle_ by Alex Turner.**

**A/N: If you've gotten this far I think I should thank you for reading - thank you, thank you, thank you! This chapter is stupidly, stupidly long and I only managed to put in about half of what I was planning to include.**

**It's been a long time since I wrote HP fanfiction and even longer since I began planning this fic but only recently did I attempt to start writing it. If you could please, please, please review and let me know what you liked, hated or just any thoughts you have I will adore you forever. If anyone at all wants to know all the madness that's going to transgress then please let me know.**

**Full disclosure: this isn't in keep with the Cursed Child as I've had this planned for so long and the first chapter was written several months ago. Initially I was going to wait until the script was published and edit this fic to have it fit TCC canon but after having read the script I quickly abandoned that idea. However, weirdly enough there are a few similarities with the TCC that will become obvious in time (don't worry, I promise there won't be any Blood Balls).**

**I don't think I need to point out that there wasn't any Rose/Scorpius in this chapter, but there's a whole lot to set up and I've got to do this properly. I promise he will be around shortly (and in case anyone is concerned, not every chapter will be so Albus-centric).**

**Once again, thank you so, so, so much for reading and any review will be utterly adored! Xxxxxxxxx**


	2. This Devil's Workday

__**This Devil's Workday**  
_Let's take this potted plant_  
_To the woods and set it free_  
_I'm going to tell the owners_  
_Just how nice that was of me_  
_I could buy myself a reason_  
_I could sell myself a job_  
_I could hang myself on treason  
_ _I am my own damn god_

* * *

Teddy Lupin was too thin, but it suited him. It made him look wild. It made him look as though he'd be better suited in the wilderness rather than at the dinner table. He laughed loudly and often and it seemed to burst from his throat like a howl, as contagious and unsettling as that of a wolf beneath the moon. Muscles and bones rippled under olive skin and hair that usually lay somewhere on the colour spectrum between plum purple and meridian blue fell into glowing brown eyes that darted around the room, ceaseless, endless, searching for something that was not there.

Teddy Lupin did not quite belong around people, it seemed; he was a tame beast, a wild thing, a barbarian with the tongue of an Edwardian gentleman, a pinprick of life and substance that tore through every room he entered. People wanted to know his face, people wanted to know his mind, but both of these were difficult feats.

His girlfriend was the image of perfection, but her brilliance was not restricted to her looks. She spoke with the wisdom and patience of a woman older than her twenty-one years, and laughed with a chime that drew in the eyes of anyone who heard it. It was hard for someone to imagine a person would be born looking like she did. It was an injustice to put her into writing, because mapping out her face with words or letters was not enough; you would have to see her to know the exquisite curve of her jaw, the blue of her eyes, the infinite arches of her cheekbones.

They were born to be together, or so they had been told. Her porcelain skin shone against his dark, house of Black flesh and he held her in an iron grip that no other man dared to dream of. They had loved each other since they were children and had stolen kisses behind their parent's turned backs since she turned fifteen and had begun sleeping together in his last year of school. They gave no sign of doubt or fleeting disinterest and it was assumed, or perhaps it was known, that they were to live and die together, extraordinary and eternal and to be remembered as the great, fiery lovers that they were, bound to marry sooner rather than later and to be forever entwined to the other as lovely Victoire and lovely Teddy as they had always been, and it was these thoughts that raged through Dominique Weasley's mind as she watched him make a beeline for her across the crowded office, and it was these thoughts that had raged through her mind every moment she laid eyes on him since she was nine years old.

He smiled when he reached her and, having trained herself well, she returned it, and watched unblinkingly as the bone of his elbow came to rest on her desk and his dark hand rose to catch his sharp, strong jaw, lazing his head in his palm, watching her with his hungry eyes that whispered, like they always seemed to, that he had a secret she knew not.

'Hey,' he sang to her.

She, tearing her eyes from the dark face that sat inches from her, glanced around him at the other occupants of her office, but, consumed by paper work and gossip, his entry had gone unnoticed. Her eyes shifted back to him. 'Hi.'

'How's it going?'

'Fine,' she replied, shifting her hand to cover the ink-blotched memos she had been struggling over. 'Harry's in a meeting.'

'That's okay. I came up to see what you.'

The gleam in his eyes told her he knew what she was thinking, but she promised herself that was impossible. 'Oh,' she murmured, and, before she could stop herself, added, 'Why?'

'Oh, you know,' he hummed, shifting his lean shoulders and swapping his head to his other hand, smiling all the while. 'Victoire wanted to make sure everything was going okay with your new job.'

The name of her sister ushered in unwelcome reality to the few inches of space that lay between their eyes. 'Oh,' she said again, picking up her quill and returning to the pile of unfinished memos awaiting her attention. 'I've been here almost a month now.'

'Yeah, but I felt like talking to you.'

With that the looming shadow of Victoire receded in an instant and the sharp flourishes of her quill softened. She was blushing, and she was sure he had noticed, for he proceeded to ask, 'So, what's going on in here?'

At that, she looked up to gaze over the chaos in question; the Auror office had collapsed into disarray before she had arrived at work that morning and it had persisted in such a manor all morning. Since then there had been ceaseless movement, a constant flow of Ministry workers streaming in and out.

She glanced back at Teddy, who was watching her with his bottomless umber eyes, and leant over the desk to whisper, 'They're saying Gamp's dead.'

The look Teddy Lupin adopted when he was surprised was quite exquisite; she watched his arching eyebrows in the moment it took his to collect his thoughts. 'Really?'

She shrugged, pleased to have his attention. 'I don't know. Nobody's told me anything. But Harry's had people coming in all morning from all the different departments wanting to talk to him. They're all going mad.'

'Why?' he asked, and the calm drawl of his voice made her ask the same question. 'I mean, he was getting on a bit, wasn't he?'

'Yes, but…'

'But what?' he breathed at her, his stare unwavering. 'They don't think… you don't mean he was killed, do you?'

She gave a shrug and scribbled down something extraneous on one of the memos, hoping to look sly. 'No idea, but Harry had Aurors stationed at all the homes of the Departments Heads.'

Teddy's eyes swelled with intrigue and she loved the way it looked on his face. She wished she had more to tell him, but all she could say was, 'You can't tell anyone that, though.'

'Course not,' he assured her. 'Is that why you've got so many memos?'

She gazed down at the pile before her and gave a nod, wishing he had not noticed the mess she had been making. 'I'm a bit behind,' she told him, trying to sound careless. 'Harry wanted these sent out already.'

'He won't mind. I bet you could use a drink after this, huh?'

Her quill twitched in her hand, marking the purple parchment with a sharp strip of ink, and, trying to steady her hand, quickly continued on scribbling. 'Yeah, I suppose.'

'I'll shout you one. Meet in the atrium after work?'

'Won't Victoire mind?'

There was a pause; it was brief, but it was definite, and she did not know whether to be pleased or dismayed by his hesitation.

'Why would she?' he asked her after a beat of silence.

'Yeah,' she replied, because there was no other possible answer. 'Are you guys busy downstairs?'

'No more than usual. Had to go out to Cardiff this morning to deal with these Cockatrices who had taken it upon themselves to start mating in an old Muggle dear's orchard. Nearly lost my thumb. Have a look.'

He extended his arm to her, laying his hand on the desk, and her eyes travelled over it without hesitation, working to commit the patterns of scars and mottled flesh that ran over his arms to memory, and her eyes came to rest on the deep, bloodied slit that circled his thumb, laying before her on the desk, not even an inch between his skin and hers.

'Merlin,' she murmured, and she closed her hand over his, raising it to inspect the wound. 'Teddy, that looks awful. Did anyone take a look at it?'

He gave her his toothy, canine grin but did not retract his hand from hers. 'I've had worse.'

'I know you have. That doesn't mean that's not disgusting.'

'All in a day's work, Dom.'

'You're going to get yourself killed one of these days.'

'I'd like to see them try.'

She tore her eyes from his ruined hand to his godly face and found him watching her. He was no longer smiling, but was wearing a look something close to a frown, as though he was struggling with a riddle in the depths of his mind, of which she knew nothing but which she was sure she had never seen him wear around Victoire, and for a brief moment his hand within hers did not seem unordinary in the least, but that shining instant in which her heart leapt into her throat was broken by the door behind her being thrown open and the sound of her uncle's voice.

'I know, Dennis, I know but there's nothing more I can tell you. Look, I really must – oh, Teddy, hi.'

His hand slipped from hers and it as if it had never been there. She quickly turned her eyes back to the memos before her as her uncle approached them, accompanied by the other Auror who had emerged with him from his office.

'Hey, Harry,' and the smile he gave his godfather was the one she adored – easy and careless and unaware of her burning flesh where their skin had met. 'How are you?'

'Yes, good, good,' Harry replied, in a breathless voice that told them he was anything but, his eyes not leaving the severe looking Auror beside him. 'Bit behind schedule for the day, so Dennis, I really am sorry but I'm going to have to get back to you on this. Until now we have the Minister's orders…'

The Auror opened his mouth, looking as if he wanted to argue, but apparently reconsidered and gave a stiff nod. 'Yes, Mr. Potter.'

'Thank you, Dennis, and I will let you know once I… well, perhaps by this afternoon. No later than tomorrow, certainly. Dominique, could you please have Flint and Urquhart's files sent over to Mr. Creevey's office?'

Dominique hastily dropped her quill back into the inkwell, splattering her desk with a few rogue pin-pricks of black, and wrenched open the heavy draw beneath her desk and began to rifle through the files within.

'No, no, we don't keep them up here,' began Harry quickly. 'You'll have to send a memo to personnel and – you know what, don't worry about it. I'll send them over to you this afternoon, Dennis – no, really, I will. As soon as I get the chance…'

The glum looking Auror mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "fucking catastrophe" before he bid Harry a terse good day and stalked off across the bustling room and out of stone archway into the winding corridor that led to the offices of the head Aurors.

Dominique saw her uncle's head give a rigid twitch, as if he was fighting not to shake his head, before he turned back to face her. 'Did you manage to get onto MacMillan?'

Dominique hesitated and reached for the pile of letters she was still working to get through. 'Um…'

'That's okay,' Harry assured her, a strained calm in his voice. 'Don't worry about it, I'm sure I'll run into him upstairs. Just finish with the memos and then if you wouldn't mind sending one up to administration to see if they can spare a few hands to help us on the desks just until Coote and Peakes get back from patrol this afternoon?'

Dominique gave a hurried nod. 'Yes, sure…'

'Preferably someone who's familiar with our Department.'

'Right.'

'And then if you could send a request form down to Percy for the Floo records for the North West for this morning between one and three o'clock…'

Dominique snatched up her quill and grabbed a blank memo. 'Right… one to three o'clock…'

'Actually better make that four o'clock… don't want to miss anything,' said Harry, a frown knotting between his eyebrows as Dominique scribbled onto the memo. 'And if anyone comes in to see me tell them they'll have to wait until this afternoon – or tomorrow morning perhaps. Just make an appointment in the book – but you better leave tomorrow morning free until ten. And if they don't want to make an appointment just please don't let them hang around here waiting. Just take a message and tell them I'll get back to them, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Unless it's anyone from the Wizengamot. Then you can let them into my office, but please let me know before I go in there, and if it's Mafalda Hopkirk you better get her a cup of tea or she won't leave you alone, alright?'

'Alright.'

'Alright,' said Harry, finishing with a great sigh. 'Thanks, Dom. I'm heading up to the Minister's office but I'll try to come back here to check up with you before I head out this afternoon, alright?'

'Right.'

'And if you need anything just… well, I won't be around so I guess it's up to you.'

Hoping her cheeks weren't taking on too much colour, Dominique gave a nod.

'Got all that?' asked Harry, his façade of calm cracking with the shudder in his voice.

'Um… yes. I think so. Yes, definitely.'

'Desk temps, Floo records from one to four this morning and don't let anyone in my office unless they're from the Wizengamot,' resolved Harry breathlessly.

'And make Mafalda Hopkirk a cup of tea,' added Teddy, a grin threatening to spill onto his face.

'Er, yes, thank you, Teddy,' said Harry, glancing at his watch before glancing at his godson as if only just registering his presence. 'What brings you up here?' he asked, before his eyes swelled behind his glasses and he asked in a panic, 'They didn't send you up to get me, did they?'

'Don't worry, it's nothing so dreadful. I just thought I'd come up to see if you and Gin would be free for tea tonight,' Teddy told him, and the lie did not escape Dominique. 'Didn't know I'd be walking into the Third Wizarding War, though.'

'Oh, right, well…' began Harry, running a hand through his mess of silver-flecked black hair. 'Perhaps not tonight… Not sure when I'll be getting off.'

'Leaky Cauldron for lunch then?'

'Er, no, I don't think so, Teddy. I'm supposed to be in the Minister's office in…' He glanced at his watch once more. 'Eight minutes ago, actually. So I'll get back to you… perhaps owl Ginny…' He raised a hand to straighten the front of his robes, taking a few backwards strides towards the office's exit. 'Better use the blue parchment for the memo to administration, alright, Dom?'

'Good to see you, too, Harry,' said Teddy jovially, but he went ignored, for Harry had ran into one of the Auror officer's desks on his way out of the office before he finally made it to the door and disappeared in a flurry of robes, almost at a run.

Teddy turned back to Dominique, grinning broadly. 'There goes the face of order and stability in our world. He really has a faultless aura of grace, don't you think?'

Dominique stifled her giggle as she spun in the chair to the filing cabinet behind her desk. ' _Accio request forms!'_

Three draws sprung open, a cascade of multi-coloured parchment flying from them, landing in a mess on Dominique's desk. She picked a lime-green one up, giving it a scrutinising frown, and plucked up her quill to begin to fill it out.

'I think the green ones are for Magical Catastrophes,' Teddy informed her gently. 'If you're sending it to Transportation you're gonna need to use the yellow ones.'

'Oh, right…' murmured Dominique, watching as Teddy unearthed a slip of canary-yellow parchment from the bottom of the pile and took it from his offered hand. 'Thanks.'

'No problem.'

The smile he gave her forced her to drop his gaze, as if she was staring into great light, and placing the yellow parchment aside she began to return the unwelcome cluster of wrongly summoned request forms to the filing cabinet behind her. 'I best get back to work, I suppose, before Harry gets back.'

'Don't worry. Sounds like he'll be a while.'

'Yes. But even so…'

'Oh, right,' said Teddy, and she was sure there was an inkling of dejection in his tone. 'We'll still get that drink though?'

'Oh, I… Yes, I suppose I can.'

'Great. So we'll meet in the atrium?'

'Sure.'

Another blinding smile and he dug his hands deep into his pockets, backing away from her desk, striding towards the door backwards with the grace that escaped her uncle as if guided by the benevolent force that had smiled upon him through all his days. He reached the door and disappeared through it but not before calling to her over the rabble, 'If I see anyone heading up here looking for Harry I'll distract them for you.'

* * *

Three pairs of eyes darted towards him as he fell through the heavy oak doors that guarded the minister's office, straightening up and pushing his glasses hurriedly up his nose.

'Sorry,' he spluttered at the room, hurrying over to take the seat beside Hermione. 'Lost track of time and I left my ID in the office so your guards wanted to do a full disillusionment procedure…'

Kingsley Shacklebolt raised a hand to dismiss the apology. 'Believe me, Harry, I fully appreciate the disaster all our morning's have turned into.'

Harry gave him a weary smile to show his appreciation of the Minister's sympathy, though the sharp look Hermione fixed upon him told him she was not so sympathetic to his misplacement of his ID card.

'If you wouldn't mind,' Kingsley said to the guard waiting stock-still beside his desk, 'I'm afraid we'll be needing privacy.'

'Of course, Minister,' replied the guard, and silence fell across the room as they waited for the woman to depart, leaving the three of them to their own devices.

'I apologise that I couldn't convene with you both earlier,' Kingsley informed them. 'We had to tell something to the press, of course, and then the Wizengamot needed to be informed of the situation. And then I felt that I owed Augusta Gamp a visit to offer my condolences.'

'Of course, Minister,' said Hermione.

'Hermione, how long have we known each other? I know asking you to call me Kingsley has made no dint on your professionalism in the past, but in this coming period of crisis perhaps you'll take my wishes into account.'

A flutter of a smile crossed across Hermione's face and she gave a small nod. 'Of course, Kingsley.'

'Now, Harry,' began Kingsley, folding his arms over his desk and fixing the Head of the Auror office with a sombre gaze. 'Have your people been able to uncover any type of picture of last night's events?'

'A very patchy one,' replied Harry. 'St Mungo's sent over a report this morning estimating the time of death to be two-sixteen this morning. The Killing Curse; no doubt about it.'

Neither Kingsley nor Hermione gave any sign that this news surprised them, and the Minister continued to watch him over his desk with an unwavering calmness on his lined face.

'It looks as though the killer forced their way through the protective charms at the property's rear, so it's safe to assume we're dealing with a fairly skilled witch of wizard. We're unsure how exactly the protective charms were broken at this point, but we've got curse breakers at the scene working on it.'

'Any witnesses?'

'Well, as I'm sure you know Augusta Gamp was abroad visiting their son and daughter-in-law in Tuscany until she heard the news, but we do have their House Elf in custody downstairs – we don't suspect her, but we need her to answer some questions,' he added in response to Hermione opening her mouth for the protest he only too well predicted.

'What questions?' asked Hermione shrewdly. 'The Auror admissions officer told me Lula was brought in as soon as the Aurors responded to her message from the manor, Harry. That was hours ago. Can't you get someone in with her so she can go home?'

'We've had someone in with her since the minute she was brought in,' Harry assured her, keeping the bite in his voice closely in-check, 'but she's absolutely beside herself. She won't talk to anyone. Nobody can get a word from her. We were hoping Augusta Gamp would be able to get to speak to us, but we didn't think it was appropriate to bring her in to deal with her elf after just losing her husband, so all we can do is hope the elf calms down sooner rather than later.'

'Well can you blame her?' demanded Hermione.

'I trust the elf has been well-accommodated for, has she not, Harry?' asked Kingsley, in his cool, deep voice that commanded calm with every utterance.

'Yes, of course she has,' said Harry, speaking mostly to Hermione. 'We had a healer come check her immediately, and we've tried to get her to eat and to take a calming draft, but she's refusing, so unless we bewitch her-'

'You can't do that anymore,' Hermione reminded him quickly.

'Yes, I know,' grumbled back Harry. 'That's what I'm saying. There's nothing else we can do but wait.'

'Then we'll wait,' said Kingsley smoothly. 'But moving on from the elf to the two dead wizards found in their cell this morning.'

'Dead wizards?' asked Hermione, aghast, turning in her seat to face Harry. 'Harry, it wasn't…'

'Flint and Urquhart, exactly,' said Harry darkly. 'It looks like Hemlock. Probably self-administered before they were arrested.'

'And any connection between their deaths and Gamp?'

'It looks unlikely,' said Harry. 'It's not the first time some lunatics have wanted to search the school thinking they'll be able to find something to give them the upper hand. All those who have tried have been just as unlucky as Flint and Urquhart.'

'Although nobody else has died in their cell,' Hermione reminded him. 'Harry, what if the school-'

'We've got the grounds guarded,' Harry assured her. 'And if this attempted break-in has shown us anything it's that protective charms around the school are the best we could hope for. We were on the scene within minutes.'

Hermione gave a nod, though Harry could not overlook the crease of anxiety between her brows.

'I'll need all of this documented and sent to both Hermione and I, if you would, Harry,' Kingsley informed him, and Harry replied with a nod before Kingsley continued. 'I'm sure you understand that the role of Head of Department now falls to you, Hermione?'

She gave a stiff nod. 'Yes.'

'That is if you accept it?'

'Of course,' said Hermione breathlessly. 'I wouldn't have accepted the offer of Deputy if I wasn't willing.'

'Yes, but I don't think any of us predicted your assumption of the role to take place under such trying circumstances,' said Kingsley wryly. 'And I do feel the need to apologise to both of you for calling you back in on your mornings off. It's your son's first year at school, is it not, Hermione?'

Hermione gave a nod. 'Yes, but it doesn't matter. Of course this is more important…' She gave a pause, and added rather uncertainly, 'I still saw him onto the train, so it's alright.'

'I shouldn't have to tell either of you how invaluable you both are to the Ministry,' Kingsley told them, though Harry hardly felt the praise was a compliment. 'Now more than ever. You'll both need to keep a tight reign on the department – I can only imagine what disarray it's in currently. Neither of you have spoken to the press, have you?'

'No, Minister,' said Hermione.

'Of course not,' Harry told him.

'I trusted as much, but you see I have to ask. It appears every department knows about it. I'm aware that it is in the nature of this business that the word has been spread around the Auror office, and I of course needed to inform Gamp's staff, but I need you both to make it imperative to your people not to speak a word of it to any reporters. They've already started arriving in the atrium, and we have them at bay, but we're going to be hounded – you two especially, and your spouses, I'm sure.'

The pair gave a nod to show that they understood, and when Kingsley continued his voice seemed to take on another degree of severity. 'The death of a Ministry official, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in his own home… It's going to cause panic, and under no circumstance can we allow ourselves to show any sign of uncertainty to the Wizarding community. Understand?'

'Yes,' they chorused.

'Solidarity is key; cooperation from all corners of Wizarding Britain. I don't think I need to tell you that Gamp was… controversial. He was close to being dismissed several times for his candidness regarding his personal views. If the public was have any indication that his politics was a factor in his death-'

'There's no evidence of that,' interjected Harry.

'Evidence or not, we must accept the very real possibility that he will gain sympathisers. If the Pureblood community was to see him as a martyr...'

'Not in this day and age, surely,' said Hermione. 'People aren't so naïve.'

Kingsley gave a warn smile. 'Don't quote me on this, Hermione, but we can't overestimate the people. The progress we've made in the last two decades cannot rewrite hundreds of years of prejudice and we mustn't take the permanence of this stability we currently enjoy for granted. It is for this reason I have decided to give the position of Deputy Department Head to Mikhael Rowle.'

' _What?_ ' hissed Harry.

'Mikhael Rowle?' cried Hermione. 'Minister, please…'

'Kingsley, you can't be serious,' growled Harry. 'Mikhael Rowle – he's worse than Gamp was!'

'He marched with the Blood Supremacists all through the 2000s!' Hermione reminded him shrilly. 'He may think we've forgotten that but we haven't. He's quietened down since he joined the Department but to make him _Deputy Head-'_

'He's a damn Death Eater,' spat Harry, ignoring the startled look Hermione shot him at his candidness. 'You put him in a position of power and we'll have Muggles turning up dead in a matter of weeks.'

'Harry!' gasped Hermione.

'You know I'm right,' he snapped at her.

'Harry, I understand this is a sensitive matter,' said Kingsley, 'and you both know I value your opinions on this above anyone else's. But you must see the logic. A Muggle-born Head of Magical Law Enforcement doesn't turn heads any more, but there are still those among us ignorant enough to see your promotion as an insult to their blood status, Hermione. You are both some of the greatest symbols we have for blood equality, as am I, and to have one of you as the Head of Department and the other as Head of the Auror office is going to attract criticism – they'll call it nepotism, they'll call it favouritism, they'll call it whatever they want, and we can deny it all we like, but people will talk and people will wind each other up, and so the only way to combat that is to give them someone they can trust. Muggle-borns trust you both, and Purebloods trust Rowle. You can't deny it.'

'Minister, I understand that,' began Hermione hesitantly, 'but…'

'But he's dangerous,' finished Harry. 'I'm asking you not to do this, Kingsley. As a friend, as a colleague – I'm saying don't do this.'

The warn smile across Kingsley's face, combined with the heavy sigh that filtered through his lips, made Harry almost hopeful that his appeal had been successful until Kingsley spoke. 'I don't want you to think that I am taking your concerns lightly, but I'm afraid my mind is made up.'

Harry gazed back into the Minister's warm, dark eyes, marked by the crow's feet and laugh lines that he had watched deepen and lengthen in the twenty-three years the man had spent in office; there had been times over their long working history together in which Harry had disagreed with Kingsley, but never, until this moment, had he thought him a fool. He got to his feet, fighting to keep his voice level, and said in a bitter, hoarse voice, 'Will that be all?'

Kingsley gave a nod. 'Yes, for now. Thank you for your time, Harry.'

He turned away without a backwards glance at the Minister and strode from the office, the blood rushing in his ears, deafening him to Hermione's murmured goodbyes. The Minister's reception area was rife with witches and wizards waiting for their chance to convene with the Minister and he hurried past them, sparing no apology for those who shrugged off when they dared to approach him.

'Harry,' called a witch from the Department of Magical Transportation, 'do you have any idea what's going on?'

'Mr. Potter,' came the eager voice of a wizard he knew belonged to the _Daily Prophet,_ 'a minute of a time if you would?'

He stormed past them, offering them no regard, and was nearly at the elevators when he felt a hand close around his shoulder.

He rounded on the unfortunate witch of wizard who had disturbed him in his fuming state, a flood of insults bubbling to his lips, only to find Hermione before him, brushing from her face the tendrils of hair that had escaped from her bun as she hurried after him.

'Harry…'

'I don't want to talk about it, Hermione.'

'Well, we need to,' she snapped at him, grabbing hold of his forearm and dragging him towards the elevator. 'Quick, before someone else joins us.'

He allowed her to guide her inside and with a flick of her wand she forced the doors closed and the elevator jostled into motion, heading downwards towards their Department.

'Look,' he began, 'I know I lost my temper but…'

'Merlin, Harry, I'm not here to snap at you about that,' she hissed at him. 'What are we going to do? I mean _Rowle_. Mikhael Rowle, for god's sake! I can't even remember how many Death Eaters he's tried to get released from Azkaban!'

'You don't need to tell me that, I'm well aware,' he snapped back, as the elevator came to a halt on their level, but he flicked his wand to prevent the doors from opening to allow them another moment of privacy. 'Kingsley's lost his mind.'

'He does have a point-'

'Bloody hell, Hermione!'

'Would you let me finish? I was going to say he does have a point about solidarity – I mean I shudder to think what kind of reaction we're going to get when it comes out how Gamp died – but to use _Rowle_ for it? It's just ridiculous. He's kept his mouth shut since he got the job in the Improper Use of Magic Office, but I know _exactly_ where he stands on blood equality.'

'So what are we going to do about it?'

She gazed up at him, fixing him with a shrewd glare. 'What do you mean?'

'You're really going to let him stay on as your Deputy?'

She gave a shaky laugh. 'No, Harry, I'm going to break into his house and wipe his memory while he sleeps and have him admitted to St Mungo's!'

'Now that's a thought.'

'Harry, be serious.'

'I am serious. Do you want to see the Ministry go back to what it was? I stand by what I said fifteen years ago. The children of Death Eaters should be barred from Ministry work.'

'Now _that's_ prejudice,' Hermione informed him tersely. 'All we can do is keep an eye on him and as soon as we see what his motives are we need to tell the Minister-'

'Would you just call him Kingsley?'

'Oh, Merlin, Harry, would you listen to me?'

'I am listening!'

'Fine, well, we'll need to let _Kingsley_ know as soon as we see anything suspicious. Merlin knows what Rowle wants with being Deputy. He's probably got hundreds of blood purists lined up for appointment in the Auror office-'

'Over my dead body,' growled Harry.

'Then you need to be sensible,' Hermione told him sternly. 'He's your superior now, Harry, and you don't want to give him reason to single you out. He's going to have the support of every pureblood across the country. We need to be careful.'

'Constant vigilance?' he asked her dryly.

'Don't,' she warned. 'We're not at the point yet.'

'Fine,' he grumbled back. 'So, what now?'

'Now we do what we have to do,' she informed him. 'I'm going to call a Department meeting to announce to everyone the change of leadership, and you're going to find out who killed Gamp. The sooner we can prove his death had nothing to do with his blood the better. Kingsley's right; we can't afford for him to be made a martyr.'

Choosing not to protest, he gave a nod and raised his wand to open the elevator doors, but Hermione's hand flew out to catch his wrist, forcing his wand down.

'What?' he asked her.

'Flint and Urquhart,' she murmured. 'You really think-'

'It's unrelated.'

'But the school,' she urged, watching him with wide, unblinking eyes. 'If someone's trying to get into the school…'

'Nobody is,' he assured her briskly. 'Flint and Urquhart are dead. Whatever they wanted they didn't get, and they're not going to.'

'But what could they want with the school?' she breathed. 'Harry, the wand…'

'That wand is no use to anyone,' Harry told her shortly. 'It won't answer to anyone anymore.'

'Yes, but what if they don't know that? If someone wanted to know where it was, or how to find it, or how to force it to do their bidding... What if they tried to use Ron or Ginny to find out?' Her voice faltered and she swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing. 'Or the kids...'

'Stop it,' he warned her. 'It's nothing. We've got other things to worry about. The school's safe – the kids are safe. It's just the fate of Wizarding Britain we have to worry about, so it's no big deal, okay?'

She did not manage to return his forced smile, but gave him a short nod and released his wrist. He gave his wand a twitch and the elevator doors shuddered open and they strode out.

* * *

The chilling fog that hung over Hogsmeade station confirmed for Albus that summer had truly departed and he stood, shivering in his robes, within the bustling crowd of eager students hurrying off to find a free stagecoach to take them up to the castle.

'Alright, Al?' came his cousin's voice through the crowd, and he turned to see Louis approaching, surrounded by his hoard sixth-year boys. 'You're looking lost.'

'I'm waiting for Rosie,' he replied.

'Oh, right. Where's she gotten to?'

'Prefect's cabin, I guess.'

'Lucky her. Well, don't just stand out here – it's bloody freezing. Come get in a coach with us.'

Albus eyed Louis's friends, all of which shared the same careless good looks as Louis, a characteristic that Albus hated in a person. 'No thanks, it's okay.'

Louis gave a shrug and slung his arm around the shoulders of a handsome brunet boy that Albus felt he should remember the name of but had surely forgotten. 'Suit yourself, then,' his cousin told him. 'See you up at the castle.'

Albus bid him goodbye and watched the gang disappear through the crowd; he could see them laughing at something at a distance and wondered if he was the butt of whatever the joke was, before reminding himself what Rose would tell him if she was there, which was that he was as self-involved as earthly possible for someone as self-loathing as himself.

'Al!'

The sound of Chandra's voice caused him to jump slightly and he did not miss the smirk across Connor Davies's face when he turned to face them.

'Oh, hi,' said Albus, and he straightened up, still finding himself to be a head shorter than Davies. 'How was it? Er, the ride I mean – the train-ride that is…'

'Yes, it was good!' Chandra trilled, and if she was aware of Davies's stifled laughter spurred by Albus's stammering she gave no sign of it. 'Where's Rosie? I thought she was going to meet us.'

'She's probably gone up already,' said Davies. 'Come on, let's get a coach…'

Albus watched as the Quidditch captain placed a guiding hand on Chandra's waist and with a gentle nudge attempted to lead her away from the station towards the coaches, but when Chandra brushed his hand away he was greeted with an immense sense of relief.

'No, no, Connor, it's okay. You go. I'm gonna stay here with Al.'

'Really?' asked Davies rather incredulously, though Albus wasn't sure what was so incredulous about that.

'Yes, yes, you go. I'll see you later.'

Davies gave a nod and departed with a definite lack of enthusiasm in his swagger, and when he was out of earshot Chandra leant in closely to Albus's ear, clutching his arm as she did so and sending shivers across his body. 'I think I'm a bit drunk,' she informed him in a whisper. 'I'm not sure I like fire whiskey.'

'Oh, really? Are you okay?'

'Oh, yes, it's fine. I think I much prefer mead. Oh, where's Rosie? I want to go have something to eat…'

'Well, I don't think mead _or_ fire whiskey are allowed on school grounds,' said Albus as Chandra scanned the crowd, acutely aware of the tight grip she kept on his arm. 'Do you think the Ravenclaws know that?'

'Oh, look, there she is!' chirped Chandra as the moonlight hit the head of crimson hair as Rose stepped off the train. 'Come on, let's go!'

Chandra hurried through the crowd and Albus trudged after her, muttering apologies to the students he bustled against in his efforts to reach his cousin.

'Rosie!' hummed Chandra, catching hold of her best friend's hand. 'There you are! We've been waiting! I drank too much fire whiskey and I'm _hungry!_ '

'Oh, Merlin, how tragic,' sighed Rose as they started towards the coaches, and Albus knew in an instant that she was in a sour mood. 'Bloody Lucy made us patrol the train _all the way here_. I tried to sneak off back to you, Al, but she caught me. She told me she was going to write to my father, and then when I pointed out dad couldn't care less about prefect duties she told me she'd write to my mother. God knows how that girl has made it to seventeen without being murdered in her sleep. I mean, whose idea was it make her head girl? She's gone mad with power. Come on, that coach is free.'

They climbed into the horseless coach, soon followed by a group of three giggling second-year boys whose presence did nothing to improve Rose's mood and which rendered their ride up the castle nearly void of conversation other than Chandra's vocal wonderings as to what would be served at the welcoming feast, and Albus turned his attention to the glistening silver castle. Lying across the great, black expanse of lake, sitting atop the cliff-face, its many turrets silhouetted against the glowing half-moon, sat the place that he would be stuck in for the next three months.

 _Not stuck_ , he told himself irritably. _Living in. Allowed to live in._

'Look!' sang one of the second-years, nudging his friend beside him. 'Which one do you think is Gryffindor tower?'

Albus could not help but listen to the eager debate held between the boys that lasted the remainder of the journey, watching as they jabbed their fingers at the panes of the carriage windows, indicating which tower they each believed to be theirs. Albus could not recall a time in his life when he had ever been so elated by his return to Hogwarts, nor by his belonging to Gryffindor.

The horseless coach came to a halt at the foot of the castle where a heavy set of doors stood ajar, spilling light onto the pebbled road and beckoning them into the entrance hall. The second year boys kicked open the coach's door and bounded out before Rose could so much as put her book away, and this display of enthusiasm drew a great scoff from the redhead, before she climbed out of the coach, followed by Chandra and Albus.

'Oh, look, there's Sally and Elena and Kim – I love your new hair cut, Kim!' called Chandra as they passed her and Rose's three dorm mates on the way into the entrance hall. 'Ooh, wow, Rosie, look at Scorpius Malfoy! Gosh, he's gotten tall…'

'He's not that tall,' said Albus, fixing the blonde boy ahead of them with a scowl as they entered the Great Hall, but his commentary went unnoticed by the two girls.

Rose dropped into the first free seat she came by at the Gryffindor table, towards the rear of the Great Hall, and Albus and Chandra took seats flanking her as other students scrambled into place across the four house tables.

'Oh, Merlin, I hope the sorting doesn't take too long,' sighed Chandra. 'I'm going to pass out I'm so hungry!'

'You shouldn't have drunk so much fire whiskey, you're all pale,' Rose told her, reaching for a jug of water that sat in the centre of the table and pouring a glass. 'Here, drink that.'

'What's this about fire whiskey?' came a carrying voice from behind them, and they turned to see James approaching with two other seventh years, and the three of them dropped into seats opposite Rose, Albus and Chandra. 'What would Mummy say of her little prefect, Rosie?'

'Keep your voice down,' Albus hissed at him, glancing around for eavesdroppers.

'Ducky, nobody gives a fuck about whose drinking except you,' James dismissed, before he cocked an eyebrow. 'Why? Have you guys got some on you?'

'You don't, do you?' Finlay Jordan, the burly, dread-locked Gryffindor beater, asked eagerly. 'Give us some!'

'Ooh, yes,' trilled Xan. 'Celebratory drinks after the feast for the last of us to join Gryffindor.'

'Let's not be so sure, Roxanne,' came the voice of Lucy, who had stopped beside them in her search for a seat. 'He's quite bright, you know. He might be in Ravenclaw.'

'Uncle Ron will hex you for saying that, Luce,' James told her. 'Now go away. We're talking about illicit substances.'

Lucy's eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into her toffee-coloured fringe. 'What?'

'Oh, calm down, I'm only pulling your leg,' said James with a wave of his hand. 'Go find your boyfriend, would you? I don't want to be seen with the head girl.'

Lucy rolled her eyes but complied none the less, continuing up the Gryffindor table to join a peaky, blonde boy with Head Boy badge fastened to the front of his robes.

'But really,' said Finlay, turning back to Rose, 'pass us the bottle.'

'What do you care? You're all of age. You can just go buy some,' Rose reminded them.

'Yes, but it tastes so much sweeter when it's forbidden,' said Finlay, flashing a grin at the redhead, who responded with a severe shake of her head.

'We don't have any anyway,' Albus assured them quickly. 'It was the Ravenclaws. Connor Davies brought some on the train.'

'Connor Davies?' scoffed James. 'What are you three doing with that tosser?'

'He's not that bad,' said Chandra in a small voice.

James fixed her with a pitiful stare. 'Oh god, Thomas, don't tell us you're shagging him. Rose, how can you let her do that?'

'James, why must you hate every soul who's ever scored against you in Quidditch?' asked Xan, sparing a blushing Chandra from James's scrutiny.

'Excuse you, Xan, do I need to remind you that you jinxed him during his Charms exam for knocking you off your broom last year?' chortled Finlay.

'That was totally unrelated. I had to get back at him for dumping Corrina,' Xan informed them.

'My point exactly,' said James, turning back to Chandra and telling her shortly, 'Drop him, Thomas.'

Chandra gave a shrug and sipped her water. 'Maybe…'

'You could get any guy you want anyway,' James informed her with a grin.

'Stop it, James,' Rose warned him, and Albus silently agreed with her whole-heartily.

'Don't defend that wanker, Rosie,' said Finlay. 'You're too good for any boy in Hogwarts, you are.'

'Back off, Fin, she's got a Muggle boy waiting back in London for her,' James informed his friend.

Chandra gave a gasp and spun in her seat to face Rose. 'I thought you weren't going to tell anyone!'

James gaped at her. 'Seriously? I was only joking! Rose, that kid looks like the biggest twat!'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' replied Rose icily, and Albus spied her give Chandra's arm a sharp pinch beneath the table.

'Merlin, Rose, I'd rather see you with Finlay than that kid…'

'Shut up now, the first years are coming,' instructed Xan, giving her cousin's arm a sharp smack, and James's retort died away as he caught sight of a stream of tiny first years flooding into the Great Hall, led by the Deputy Head Master.

'Look – there's Hugo!' said Xan eagerly, pointing him out to her cousins amongst the crowd of other newcomers.

'Saved you a seat, Hugo!' James called to him as he passed, to which he received a beaming grin from their youngest cousin.

The Deputy Head Master led the first years to a halt before the staff-table, before which sat the ancient sorting hat, and Rose, Albus and their companions waited through the sorting hat's song and the long list of first-years that the professor read from the roll.

'You'd think Neville would do us all a courtesy and skip to G first,' sighed James impatiently. 'He can go back and do all the other brats after his godson's been sorted.'

'Shut up and listen,' Finlay told him, clapping as Daniel Bagnold became the first of his year-level to join Gryffindor.

Finally, after Annalise Godfrey joined Hufflepuff, Neville read in a carrying voice, 'Granger, Hugo!'

The name spurred a chorus of whispers around the Great Hall, just as his sister's and cousin's names had in the years before him, and the boy trotted up to the stool, utterly undeterred by the excitement his name had inspired throughout the students. He plucked up the hat, pulling it onto his head so that only his long tendrils of brown curls were visible, and dropped down onto the stool. Barely had he had contact with his seat when the Sorting Hat sung out, 'Gryffindor!'

The Gryffindor table erupted into applause while the other house tables gave feeble murmurs of disappointment at having missed the chance to claim the famous name of Granger.

'I knew it!' bellowed James, giving Rose's shoulder a light punch of celebration. 'I knew it, didn't I?'

Smiling in spite of herself, Rose applauded along with the rest of Gryffindor as Hugo tore off the hat and hurried across to the Gryffindor table, taking a seat amongst the other first-year Gryffindors who greeted him warmly.

Once the applause had subsided, which required a call for silence from the Head Mistress in response to James and Finlay's persistent clapping, Neville continued with the Sorting Ceremony, which failed to garner the same enthusiasm from Albus and his cousins once they had their assurance that Hugo would be joining them that evening in Gryffindor tower. After the last student had been assigned to their house and Neville had collected the Sorting Hat and its stool, Professor Sinistra got to her feet from behind the staff table.

'Welcome all of you to another year at Hogwarts,' the Head Mistress called across the Great Hall. 'How wonderful it is to see so many faces, both new and familiar, and what better way to greet you than with food. So please, enjoy!'

With that, the golden plates before them filled with piles upon piles of a vast array of dishes.

'Oh, thank Merlin,' sighed Chandra, diving for a dish of boiled potatoes and began ladling them onto her plate.

There was little room for conversation while they ate, all eager to fill up on the endless selection of cuisines offered by the welcoming feast, and once they had eaten their full each cousin departed to congratulate Hugo.

'I suppose I better go say something to him,' sighed Rose, though Albus was fully aware that the smile playing at her lips had not fully departed since her brother was sorted.

After the remnants of the feast disappeared from their plates to be replaced by desert, Rose and Albus left Chandra deep in a covert analysis with Elena Fortescue as to which boys had aged best over the summer, and strode up the Great Hall to find Hugo.

'Rosie!' hollered Hugo at the sight of his sister. 'I got in! I got in!'

'I noticed,' she replied, unable to contain her smile. 'It'll save Dad from spiralling into depression, at least.'

'Well done, Hugo!' said Albus.

'Thanks, Al!' trilled Hugo, before turning back to face the other first years he was sitting with. 'That's my cousin Albus. He's Harry Potter's _other son_.'

'You've got pudding on your nose, Hugo,' Rose informed her brother coolly over the first year's awe-struck gasps. 'Come on, Al, let's go back and sit down.'

They returned to their seats to find that James and Finlay had departed for join the other seventh year boys further down the table and Xan had found herself a seat beside her boyfriend at the Hufflepuff table.

'I wish the first years wouldn't stare,' sighed Albus, quietly enough so to allow only Rose to hear. 'Nobody stares at James.'

'Chandra does,' Rose reminded him. 'Just about every girl in school does.'

'You know what I mean,' he grumbled back.

'It's only because James doesn't really look like your parents,' Rose informed him. 'You'd only know he was their son if someone told you. Just like Hugo and I. But you look so much like your dad it's hard to miss. You better pray you don't need glasses later in life; that would be too much.'

'Thanks, Rosie.'

'I'm not saying it's a bad thing,' she assured him. 'And any way, if you're doing this whole personal make-over thing you need to start loving it when people look at you.'

'Shh!'

'Oh, for God's sake, Al. Nobody's listening.'

'Hey, Rose?'

The voice of this new arrival almost sent Albus off his chair, but he steadied himself in time to catch sight of Lucy, who had returned to Rose's side with a copy of the _Prophet_ tucked under her arm.

'Look, Lucy, we don't have any fire whiskey, okay?' sighed Rose.

'No, not that,' said Lucy, and Albus noticed that her voice lacked its usual purpose, and held something that could only be called apprehension. 'You don't get the evening _Prophet_ do you?'

'No, I don't. Why?'

Lucy's eyes darted around for onlookers before she took the copy of the _Prophet_ from under her arm, keeping it rolled up as she passed it to Rose. 'I think you should have a look.'

Rolling her eyes, Rose accepted the paper and shook it open and Albus craned his neck towards her to read the front page.

_GUSTAV GAMP FOUND MURDERED  
GRANGER NAMED NEW DEPARTMENT HEAD_

Albus and Rose exchanged glances.

'You better read it,' said Lucy. 'Quickly though. You've got to take the first years up to the tower soon. The new password is "scurvy grass", okay?'

Rose nodded her thanks and Lucy departed, leaving the two fifth-years to scour the article before them. The text was brief, evidently scrounged together by _Prophet_ reporters desperate to make the story known regardless of reliable facts, but the segment had been stretched to fit the entire front page of the _Prophet_ by the accompaniment of a large photograph of Gustav Gamp standing at a podium in the Wizengamot, batting his fists and bellowing something silent over and over again.

_Aurors were called to the home of Gustav Gamp earlier today after the Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement was found dead by his house elf. Sources within the Auror office confirm that the death is being treated as suspicious, but Head of the Auror Office Harry Potter declined to comment._

_Gamp, 89, had served as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement since 2013, assuming the appointment under Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt during the massive reshuffling undertaken by the Ministry following the Second Wizarding War. Known for his Blood-purist rhetoric, Gamp was faced with the prospect of dismissal thrice during his term as Department Head and had garnered a massive band of opponents both in the Ministry and the public sphere._

_The Auror office offered no insight into the investigation and denied_ Prophet _reporters's suggestions that Gamp's murder may have been orchestrated by blood equality activists._

_The position of Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been assumed by Hermione Granger, former Deputy Head and close friend of Harry Potter, who played a major role in the downfall of He Who Must Not Be Named. Mikhael Rowle, formerly of the Improper Use of Magic Office, has been appointed Deputy Head under Ms Granger._

_Ms Granger was unavailable for comment regarding the events surrounding her predecessor's death but sources within the Department confirm that Granger claimed a Department meeting earlier today that the Auror office has no suspects of yet._

Rose finished reading first and sat in silence for Albus to reach the end of the article, after which her raised his head to gaze at her with wide, green eyes.

'That's what all those owls were at the station for,' murmured Albus. 'Because of Gamp getting murdered!'

'Supposedly.'

'What do you mean?'

'Come on, Al. You can tell this article's been pieced together by rumours and guesswork. Who knows what the Auror office has made of it. For all we know he could have died peacefully in his sleep. He was eighty-nine, after all.'

'That's not that old for Wizards, though,' Albus reminded her. 'And it must have been something pretty bad or otherwise why would they have needed your mum and my dad to come into work so quickly? If he just died in his sleep surely it wouldn't be that big of a deal.'

Rose was silent for a moment while she considered this before giving a shake of her head and folding up the _Prophet_. 'I suppose there's no way of knowing yet.'

'Do you think you should tell Hugo?'

'Why? What's he going to do about it?'

'Your mum's been made Department Head! That's pretty big news!'

'He doesn't even know what the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is,' Rose told him dismissively.

Albus opened his mouth to protest, but it was at that moment that Professor Sinistra chose to get to her feet once more and the hall fell into silence for the Head Mistress to give the usual beginning of term reminders before she bid them all a goodnight and dismissed them.

Rose gave a sigh and got to her feet. 'Well, I'll see you up there.'

'Wait, where are you going?' he asked hurriedly.

'I've got to get all the first years together to take them upstairs.'

'Oh, no, do you?' grumbled Albus.

'Well, it's not like I want to do it. You can take my place if you like and have Hugo's new friends gawking at you.'

'No thanks,' mumbled Albus. 'Shouldn't you owl your mum and dad?'

'What for?'

'To tell them Hugo got into Gryffindor, obviously.'

'I'm sure Neville will,' said Rose carelessly. 'I'll see you in the Common Room, okay?'

Albus watched her go before turning back to Chandra, who was still engrossed in conversation with Elena Fortescue. He waited several moments before either girl registered that he was staring at them, at which time Elena cast him an odd look and shuffled away slightly, evidently irked by his apparent eavesdropping.

Deciding not to dwell on another of his frequent social missteps, he asked of Chandra, 'So are you ready to head up?'

Chandra's cheeks darkened immediately and she plucked up a stray lock of black hair and wound it around her finger intently. 'Oh, sorry, Al. I told Connor I'd meet him after dinner to… to go for a walk.'

'Oh,' mumbled Albus, 'right.'

'You can walk up with Rosie, though, can't you?'

'She's got to get all the first years together.'

'Oh, right! Stupid me! Well, um… perhaps you could come along with Connor and me. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. We were just going to see if any of the classrooms are unlocked-'

'No thanks,' Albus spluttered as quickly as he could, and he jumped to his feet in an instant. 'I'll just see you later.'

'Oh, okay,' said Chandra, looking vaguely disappointed, but Albus could not bear to look at her any longer and he hurried away into the crowd pouring out into the entrance hall.

He allowed the crowd to jostle him forward, not watching where he was going, his mind full of Chandra and Gustav Gamp and the lingering stares of the first-years. How long had he gone in life without being utterly humiliated? How long had he gone without saying something utterly ridiculous, or doing something painfully embarrassing, or-

'Oi, watch it, Potter!'

Emory Vane's sharp voice pulled him from his reverie; he had collided with his tall, wiry-haired dorm-mate at the foot of the Marble Staircase, having not realised the crowd had come to a halt under the congestion of students ascending the stairs.

'Oh, sorry, Emory, I didn't…'

His voice died in his mouth at the sight of the tiny blonde girl that stood amongst the group of his dorm-mates. Cassie Kettleburn, her thin, sandy-coloured hair pulled into a familiar pony-tail, accompanied by her usual gang of Hufflepuff girls, stood amongst the Gryffindors, conspicuously avoiding his gaze, her usually rosy-cheeks positively scarlet at the sight of him.

He was staring at her too long, he knew, and yet he could not look away, nor could he force himself to speak, and the moment of silence seemed to last an eternity before Hamish Coote spoke.

'So, how was your summer, Albus?'

'G-good. Yes, it was… good, thanks.' He was fully aware of the giggle being stifled by Cassie's friends, while Cassie herself was staring stubbornly at her feet. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Hamish, whose robes boasted a gleaming golden badge. 'Oh, you got prefect. Congratulations.'

'Oh, yeah, thanks,' said Hamish with a shrug.

'Surprised you didn't get it, Potter?' asked Johnny Kirke. 'I thought surely Professor Longbottom would have hand-picked you for it.'

The Hufflepuff girls didn't even bother to stifle their giggles at that, and Emory Vane and Atticus MacDonald too let out a huff of laughter.

'Er, no… I guess not…' mumbled Albus.

'Well, I wouldn't worry,' said Hamish. 'It's a bit of a pain, really. Only just managed to avoid taking the first years up. The new head girl's a bit psycho.'

'She's your cousin, isn't she, Potter?' asked Emory Vane gleefully.

'Oh, shit, right…' muttered Hamish. 'Well, I mean, she's good at her job I guess.'

Albus said nothing as another string of laughter sounded around him; Cassie and Hamish were the only ones who seemed able to control themselves, and yet Cassie still did not seem capable to tearing her eyes from her shoes.

'Oh, good, the line's moving,' said Hamish eagerly, and they started up the steps. 'We were gonna go to the Transfiguration room for a bit before curfew. You wanna come, Albus?'

If he had had any desire to accept the offer it was quickly crushed by the groans he heard emitted from Vane.

'Er, no thanks. I'm a bit tired.'

'Oh, yeah, fair enough,' said Hamish, and Albus did not miss the relief in his voice. 'Well, we'll see you up in the dorm.'

'Yeah. Night.'

At the top of the Marble Staircase he watched the group depart, his eyes fixed upon Cassie's golden hair, careful to scan for any sign of physical familiarity between her and any of the Gryffindor boys.

'You stalking her now?'

The arrival of his brother did nothing to improve him mood, and Albus turned to see him approaching with Finlay from down the Marble Staircase.

'I was talking to her,' grumbled Albus. 'Am I not allowed to talk to her?'

'You were not, you liar. You were talking to Coote. You couldn't even manage to look her in the eye. How are you gonna find a girl to shag you if they can't even bring themselves to look at you?'

'Leave him alone, James,' protested Finlay as they started up the Marble Staircase again. 'It's a good thing, Al. If she can't look at you it means she's not over you. You might still have a chance.'

'Fuck that,' said James. 'She's too scrawny. You should ask out that Ravenclaw girl with the curly hair.'

'Faheem?' inquired Finlay. 'Isn't she still with that Malfoy kid?'

James gave a mournful sigh. 'Typical. Well, you could ask out Thomas I suppose. If she's sleeping with Davies her standards obviously aren't too high. She might be a bit too pretty for you, though.'

'I can't ask out Chandra. She's my friend.'

'She is not,' said James, stopping at the sixth floor landing to fix Albus with a pointed look. 'She's Rose's friend and therefore she has to be nice to you. Whether being nice extends to shagging you remains to be seen, however.'

'She is pretty fit, Al,' said Finlay.

Albus rolled his eyes and continued up the staircase, but he had only taken a few steps before he realised James and Finlay were no longer in his stride, and turned back to see them poised on the sixth floor landing. 'Where are you two going?'

'Ask no questions and I'll tell no lies, Ducky,' James sung to him.

Albus trudged back down the steps to re-join them. 'You know Mum said she'd take away your broom if you get another detention before October.'

'Ye of little faith,' said James. 'Not every misdemeanour we commit results in detention. If so we wouldn't be able to make it to any classes.'

'So what are you doing?'

'That's for me to know and you to fry your teeny, tiny brain trying to find out.'

'You're a prat, James,' Finlay informed him. 'We found some Slytherins on the map down in an empty corridor and we're gonna chuck a dung bomb in. Wanna come?'

Albus's immediate response was "no", and it came so automatically that he omitted a rather choked splutter as he tried to catch it before it left his mouth. Recovering quickly and ignoring James's laughter, he said, 'Alright.'

James let out another burst of laughter. 'Very funny. Now go away, you're holding us up.'

'No, I'm serious,' insisted Albus. 'Let me come with you.'

'You've never experienced anything more exciting than Gran's trifle in your life. This is gonna do you in, Al.'

'I mean it!' he told his brother imploringly. 'Come on, James, let me come! What do you think's gonna happen?'

'Come on, James, just let him come,' said Finlay. 'If we don't hurry we're gonna miss them.'

James gave an immense groan of reluctance. 'Okay, fine, but you better not be an idiot about it, alright, Al? Just do what I tell you and you'll be fine, alright?'

Albus had lived most of his life under the guidance of the philosophy that he should absolutely not do what James told him to do for the sake of his own survival, and so, casting away the ideology he had lived by for his first fifteen years of life, he gave a nod.

The walk down the sixth floor corridor seemed to last for hours and the inexplicable sense that he was walking to a noose waiting for his neck settled upon him, but he did not allow himself to fall behind Finlay and his brother.

'Down here,' James instructed of them, gesturing down a narrow offshoot of the corridor, in which he could see nothing but pitch-blackness.

'Are they down there?' asked Albus wearily. The prospect of wondering through pitch-blackness into a hoard of Slytherins was anything but attractive.

'Through there and then they're in the corridor parallel to this one that goes to the Charms room,' said James, glancing down at the weathered yellowed parchment in his hand.

James turned, unheeded, down the blackened corridor. Finlay offered Albus a grin before following his partner in crime and Albus, swallowing the fear in his throat, hurried along after them.

Albus felt his way along the corridor, his fingers grazing the cold, stone walls as he followed the sound of James and Finlay's soft footsteps, and he asked into the darkness, 'Do you think this is what Dad intended you to use the map for?'

'Shut up,' was the reply he received from both seventh years, and a moment later he felt himself collide with a tall figure. A hand caught his forearm in an iron grip, holding him upright and panic flooded through him before a light appeared at the tip of James wand and he saw the figure he had collided with was Finlay.

They had reached the end of the narrow corridor, which was barred by a heavy, burgundy tapestry, through which Albus could hear a murmur of voices. James raised a finger to his lips and fixed his brother with a piercing look, and Albus knew that should he make any noise he would pay for it, and, following James and Finlay's lead, he approached the tapestry, resting his ear against it to listen to the voices of the Slytherins on the other side.

'Look, I don't know what you're so worried about-'

' _Goyle_ ,' James informed Albus.

'I think it's pretty obvious what he's worried about, Edmund,' came the snarling voice of Lucien Runcorn. 'I'm worried about the same thing.'

' _The fifth years_ ,' narrated Finlay, to which he received a nod from James.

'Then you're an idiot,' snapped Clement Rosier. 'We've told you, there's no way the school's going to find out-'

'And how can you promise that?' demanded Beaumont Burke. 'For all we know the teachers could be watching everything we do after what happened last night.'

'Why would anyone suspect that had anything to do with us?' demanded Rosier.

' _On the count of three?'_ Finlay whispered across at James.

'If you need that explained to you then I definitely don't have any interest in getting involved,' came the drawling voice of Scorpius Malfoy.

James gave a nod and, dimming the tip of his wand and stowing it away, he withdrew from his pocket a heavy-looking dung domb. ' _One, two-'_

' _Wait!'_ Albus hissed at them, catching James's hand and forcing himself to ignore the venomous look James gave him. ' _Listen!'_

'Excuse you, Malfoy?' snarled Rosier. 'You should be honoured that we've even asked you to join us.'

'I have no idea why,' retorted Malfoy. 'Now if you don't mind I'll be going-'

'Wait,' Rosier hissed at the Ravenclaw, and from the heavy silence that fell upon the group Albus knew that Rosier had withdrawn his wand. 'I suggest you take a moment to really think about what you're saying.'

'I don't need a moment to think about it,' Malfoy told him, and there was a second of silence in which Albus was sure Malfoy had withdrawn his wand. 'I already know my answer. Get out of my way.'

'You're seriously going to walk from this opportunity?' demanded Rosier, his voice laced with venom. 'You seriously want to do that?'

'Clement, put your wand away,' snapped Runcorn.

'Wait, wait, Lucien, I think Malfoy owes us an answer,' hissed Edmund Goyle, and with a rustle of his robes he too doubtlessly withdrew his wand. 'You know my father told me about your family but I decided to give you a chance-'

'Very kind of you, Goyle,' snapped Malfoy. 'I'm so sorry to have wasted your energy. Merlin knows it must take you a lot of effort to haul yourself up the stairs.'

'You little – _Levicorpus!'_

_'Protego!'_

The absence of yells told Albus that Malfoy had managed to blocked Goyle's jinx, and Runcorn's raised voice rung around the corridor. 'Stop it, for god's sake!'

'Don't pretend you don't know what's going on, Malfoy!' Goyle bellowed. 'Don't pretend you don't know what your father's up to!'

'Edmund, shut up,' snarled Burke.

'You can pretend my family's beneath yours, but we're going to end up fighting on the same side-'

'Edmund _, shut the hell up!'_

'What the fuck's your problem, Beaumont?'

'There's someone listening behind that tapestry, that's what!'

Albus did not even have time to straighten up before he heard Malfoy's shout of ' _Evanesco!'_ and the tapestry before them vanished. There he stood, flanked by James and Finlay on either side, the three of them empty-handed and frozen in their spots, five pairs of wands aimed at the mouth of the tiny corridor where they stood, Edmund Goyle's pointed squarely over the space in Albus's chest that guarded his heart.

'Move,' Goyle hissed at him, 'and you're dead.'

 


End file.
